RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 


.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


SAW    IT    WAS    SIR    WALTER."        Pag t  404. 


RED  CAP 
ADVENTURES 


BEING  THE  SECOND  SERIES 

OF  RED  CAP  TALES 

STOLEN    FROM  THE  TREASURE 

CHEST   OF   THE  WIZARD 

OF   THE   NORTH 


WHICH    THEFT 
IS  HUMBLY  ACKNOWLEDGED  BY 


S.    R.    CROCKET 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:   ADAM  AND  CHARLES   BLACK 


COPYRIGHT,  1908, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  September,  1908. 


NortoooU  |hr(H 

J.  8.  Cushlnp  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  MMB.,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 

TALES  TOLD  FROM  "IVANHOE" 

MM 

THE  FIRST  TALE: 

I.  THE  KEEPER  OF  SWINE  .....         9 
II.  COUNCIL  OF  CONNOISSEURS  •  32 

THE  SECOND  TALE: 

I.  THE  SPLINTERED  LANCES  OF  ASHBY     .  .  .26 

II.  BATTLE  GENERAL          .  .  .  .  .44 

LINK  NUMBER  Two: 

I  INCREASE  MY  AUDIENCE         .  .  .  .        52 

THE  THIRD  TALE: 

THE  TALE  OF  THE  PEELED  WILLOW  WAND      .  .        64 

THE  FOURTH  TALE: 

THE  CASTLE  OF  FRONT  DE  BCEUF        »  >  .        74 

END  OF  THE  FOURTH  TALE  FROM  "  IVANHOE  "  .        93 

THE  FIFTH  TALE: 

I.  THE  SACK  OF  TORQUILSTONE  .  .           *  IOI 

ii.  REBECCA'S  CHAMPION     .  .  .           .  in 

in.  CONCLUSION        .           .  .  «  .129 

TALES   TOLD   FROM  "THE  FORTUNES   OF  NIGEL" 

THE  FIRST  TALE: 

MASTER  AND  MAN          .....      144 


2128893 


vi  CONTENTS 

V 

THE  SECOND  TALE:  PAGB 

NIGEL  AT  COURT  .  .  .  .  .163 

THE  END  OF  SWEETHEART'S  SECOND  TALE  FROM  "  THE 
FORTUNES  OF  NIGEL"  .  .  .  .170 

THE  THIRD  TALE: 

THE  RECEPTION  OF  SWEETHEART'S  TALES  CONCERN- 
ING TRAPBOIS,  THE  MISER    „.  .  .  .192 

SWEETHEART'S  FOURTH   TALE   FROM   "THE   FORTUNES   OF 
NIGEL " : 

THE  TRAITOR'S  GATE     .  .  .  .  .198 

THE   END   OF   SWEETHEART'S   FOURTH    TALE   FROM 
"THE  FORTUNES  OF  NIGEL"  .  .  .210 

THE  LAST  TALE  TOLD  BY  SWEETHEART  FROM  "THE  FOR- 
TUNES OF  NIGEL"  .  .  .  .  .217 

TALES   TOLD   FROM   "QUENTIN   DURWARD" 

HUGH  JOHN  PREPARES  TO  TELL  HIS  TALE       .  .  .      247 

THE  TALE  OF  QUENTIN  DURWARD'S  ADVENTURES  AS  THESE 
APPEARED  TO  HUGH  JOHN : 
THE  SCOTS  ADVENTURER  ....      249 

THE  SECOND  TALE  OF  QUENTIN  DURWARD: 

THE  GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS  .      262 

HUGH  JOHN'S  THIRD  TALE  FROM  "QUENTIN  DURWARD": 

ON  THE  KING'S  BUSINESS  ^-         .  .  .      293 

HUGH  JOHN'S  LAST  TALE  FROM  "QUENTIN  DURWARD": 

THE  KING'S  DANGER       .....      320 


CONTENTS  vii 

TALES   TOLD   FROM   "THE  PIRATE" 

PACK 

THE  PRELUDE  TO  SIR  TOADY'S  RED  CAP  TALES: 

"THE  STORY  OF  PIRATE  CLEVELAND,   OR,  THE  BE- 
NEVOLENT BUCCANEER"        ....      359 

SIR  TOADY  LION'S  STORY  OF  "  THE  PIRATE  "  WHICH  HE  TOLD 

FOR  LOVE  .......      361 

THE  SECOND  RED  CAP  TALE,  WHICH  TOADY  LION  TOLD  FOR 
MONEY  : 

THE  TALE  OF   CAPTAIN  DALGETTY  AND  THE  CHIL- 
DREN OF  THE  MIST     .....      388 

THE  LAST  TALE  IN  THE  BOOK  CALLED  "RED  CAP  ADVEN- 
TURES," BEING: 

THE  TALE  THAT  RED  CAP  TOLD  TO  MAID  MARGARET 
IN  A  DREAM    .  .          .          .          .          .40! 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS   IN  COLOUR 

BY  ALLAN  STEWART 

1  When  he  took  off  his  big  grey  hat  and  stood  with  it  in  his 

hand,  my  heart  gave  a  great  jump  for  I  saw  it  was  Sir 
Walter     ......    Frontispiece 

IVANHOE 

FACING  PACK 

2  Wamba  could  hardly  collect  himself  enough  to  misdirect 

them  when  they  demanded  the  road  to  the  house  of  his 
master     .......        14 

3  Fair  and  true  he  hit  the  Norman  on  the  vizor,  where  his 

lance's  point  kept  hold  of  the  bars          » "  .        .  .        34 

4  He  that  hits  that  rod  at  five-score  yards,  I  call  him  an  archer 

fit  to  bear  both  bow  and  quiver  before  a  king     .  »        70 

5  "What  dost  thou  see,  Rebecca?"    again  demanded   the 

wounded  knight,  eagerly  .  .  »  <         .        90 

FORTUNES   OF  NIGEL 

6  Richard  Monyplies  went  .  .  .  along  by  the  rows  of  booths 

and  shops  which  is  now  called  Fleet  Street        .  .       146 

7  Prevented  from  attending  at  Court  by  a  too  great  devotion 

to  the  pleasures  of  the  gaming-house      .  .  .       168 

8  Nigel  precipitated  himself  upon  the  scene  of  action,  his  pistol 

in  his  right  hand,  the  candle  in  his  left,  and  a  naked 
sword  under  his  arm        .  .  .  .  .184 

iz 


x:  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING   PACK 

9    Nigel  went  into  the  park  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  come 

on  the  King  when  he  had  just  killed  a  buck       .  .       200 


QUENTIN  DURWARD 

10  Quentin  declared  that  he  would  throw  down  his  gage  to 

any  one  who  would  dare  to  say  that  such  a  face  could 

be  otherwise  than  true  and  pure  ,  .  .       260 

1 1  Quentin  came  very  near  losing  the  King's  favour  by  letting 

in  the  Duke  of  Orleans   .....       296 

12  Forty  serving-men,  carrying  alternately  naked  swords  and 

blazing  torches,  served  as  Louis's  guard  to  his  prison    .       326 

THE   PIRATE 

13  Bunce  gave  Minna  a  pistol  to  defend  them  both        .          '  *.      368 

A   LEGEND   OF   MONTROSE 

14  It  is  the  custom  in  summer  to  send  the  cows  to  the  upland 

pastures  for  the  sake  of  the  grass  .  .  .      384 

15  Behind  every  chair  stood  a  gigantic  Highlander  ...  in  his 

right  hand  a  drawn  sword,  and  in  the  left  a  blazing 
torch        .  .  .  «  .  .  .       388 

16  He  was  astonished  to  hear  that  the  best  weapons  of  the 

Children  of  the  Mist  were  bows  and  arrows        .  .      392 


RED   CAP  TALES 

TOLD   FROM 

IVANHOE 


RED  CAP  ADVENTURES 

BEING 

THE  SECOND  SERIES   OF   "RED  CAP  TALES" 

I 

TALES  TOLD  FROM  "IVANHOE" 

IT  is  a  blessed  thing  to  be  a  father,  engaged  in  the 
daily  production  of  immortal  works.  A  rose-covered 
library  set  on  the  verges  of  a  wood,  gardens,  the  green 
sweep  of  a  valley,  the  chime  of  a  distant  village  clock  — 
how  ideal,  how  peaceful,  saith  the  visiting  stranger. 
Any  one  could  work  under  such  conditions ! 

But  could  he?    Wait!    Hearken! 

There  is  a  tramp  of  feet,  all  striking  the  hard,  pebbly 
path  with  martial  energy.  Some  one  is  exercising  a 
company  of  soldiers  beneath  the  latticed  window,  with 
the  "Hi!  — 'Ell!  — Ump!"  caught  from  the  local 
drill-sergeant. 

Eight  footsteps  fall  as  one.  Arms  of  various  caliber 
are  grounded  with  a  clatter  immediately  beneath  the  sill. 
Then  the  drill-sergeant  proceeds  to  point  out  the  short- 

3 


4  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

comings  of  his  units  with  the  brusque  directness  pecul- 
iar to  his  profession. 

"You,  Sweetheart,  are  a  goose !  I  saw  you  looking 
over  your  shoulder  thrice,  to  see  if  any  one  was  coming. 
You  are  frightened  of  any  one  seeing  you !  Proper 
soldiers  aren't  frightened!" 

"They  would  be  if  they  were  girls,  and  had  to  wear 
Zouave  trousers!"  said  Sweetheart,  with  point. 

"Coward!  Coward!"  said  Sergeant-Major  Hugh 
John,  tauntingly. 

Sweetheart  threw  down  her  arms  with  an  extreme 
haughtiness  fitted  to  chill  all  beholders. 

"Won't  play  at  your  silly  soldiers !"  she  cried.  "So, 
there!" 

"Mutiny!  Mutiny!"  shouted  the  commander-in- 
chief.  "Seize  her!  To  the  dungeon  with  her !" 

This,  of  course,  he  knew  very  well  they  could  not  do. 
For,  firstly,  fleetfoot  Sweetheart  could  run  faster  than 
any  of  them.  And,  secondly,  as  soon  as  any  punish- 
ment was  attempted,  Sir  Toady  Lion  would  take  the 
side  of  the  person  attacked.  He  was  the  Buck,  ever 
ready  for  the  fray.  There  remained  Maid  Margaret, 
who  would  only  laugh. 

Never  was  a  commander-in-chief  more  helpless. 
Dignity  forbade  him  to  yield  directly.  Yet  what  gen- 
eral can  face  his  entire  force  in  a  state  of  mutiny  ? 


TALES   TOLD   FROM   "IVANHOE"  5 

"I  resign  the  command  of  this  army!"  said  Hugh 
John.  "Elect  whom  you  please.  I  have  done  with 
you !  You  are  worse  than  John  Silver's  buccaneers  — 
you  —  you  disgraces  to  civilisation !" 

The  army  disbanded  without  showing  any  signs  of 
its  degraded  position.  Part  immediately  betook  itself  to 
the  kennels  to  sing  to  the  dogs.  This  was  Sir  Toady 
Lion.  He  had  discovered  that  there  was  one  long- 
drawn  falsetto  note  "with  a  dying  fall"  which  no  dog 
could  resist.  In  five  minutes  he  had  them  all  singing 
away  in  maddening  chorus.  From  my  desk  I  could 
discern  the  "wolf's  long  howl  on  Oonalaska's  shore," 
which  proceeded  from  that  first  cousin  of  the  wolf,  our 
deerhound  Ross.  Huge  "Boom-pluff"  Sampson  thun- 
dered an  earth-shaking  bass,  and  even  Sir  Toady's 
own  fox-terrier  pointed  his  nose  to  the  sky  and  sang 
with  shrill  rapture. 

Maid  Margaret  sat  on  a  post  and  applauded.  If  she 
had  known  she  would  have  gone  for  an  ancient  bugle, 
which,  with  the  nozzle  of  a  pair  of  bellows  thrust  deep 
into  its  battered  throat,  produced  sounds  calculated  to 
freeze  the  blood  of  a  licensed  victualler.  But  as  it  was, 
the  entertainment  was  too  good.  She  could  not  miss  a 
fleeting  moment.  Such  moments  are  too  rare.  Here 
the  superior  force  comes  on  the  scene. 

For  a  faithful  author  seeking  inspiration  (with  his 


6  RED  CAP  ADVENTURES 

head  between  his  hands  and  cotton-wool  in  his  ears) 
felt  the  charm  somewhat  less.  He  selected  a  supple  but 
efficient  ash-plant,  surnamed  "Early  Piety,"  from  a 
rack  crowded  with  umbrellas  and  camera  legs,  which 
stood  by  the  door.  Then  he  stepped  softly  out. 

But  that  wide-awake  youth  Toady  Lion  had  caught 
the  slight  rasping  sound  made  by  "Early  Piety"  on 
the  rim  of  the  umbrella  stand.  So  that  when  I  de- 
scended the  steps  into  the  lower  garden,  there  were  only 
the  hounds  left  to  chastise. 

A  single  application  of  the  ash-plant  sent  them  whim- 
pering to  their  private  apartments. 

Remained  the  real  culprits.  These  I  discovered 
perched  like  crows  upon  the  paling,  which  has  for  office 
to  separate  the  home  plantation  from  the  big  woods  — 
six  miles  of  woodlands  free  behind,  every  inch  known 
to  them.  I  could  have  caught  them,  of  course.  But 
somehow  I  didn't  want  to.  It  was  a  hot  day,  and  Rus- 
sian tactics  were  more  comfortable.  So  I  prepared  to 
beat  a  masterly  retreat  —  the  only  thing  I  could  find 
to  beat,  owing  to  these  rascally  woods. 

However,  I  rebuked  them  for  making  so  much  noise. 
They  listened  with  their  usual  hypocritical  humility. 
But  I  am  far  from  being  taken  in  by  assumed  penitence. 

"It  was  the  dogs,"  Sir  Toady  explained ;  "I  was  try- 
ing to  stop  them!" 


TALES   TOLD   FROM   "IVANHOE"  7 

"Oh,  you  story !"  broke  out  his  elder  brother,  invol- 
untarily. Then  correcting  himself  on  the  verge  of  tale- 
bearing, the  one  Sin  Without  Forgiveness,  he  added, 
"Of  course  I  didn't  see !  I  wasn't  there !" 

"No,"  said  I,  "and  of  course  not  one  of  you  knows 
anything  about  it!" 

In  this  I  was  correct.  They  had  all  heard  the  dogs, 
but  none  of  them  knew  anything  about  "why  they 
went  on  so." 

Toady  Lion  volunteered  the  suggestion  that  "it 
might  be  the  weather." 

Nice  dependable  young  persons !  Yet  I  commended 
their  solidarity,  and  when  I  had  finished,  Sweetheart, 
who  is  an  adept  in  changing  the  subject,  remarked  that 
if  I  would  only  "tell  them  another  story,"  it  would 
be  certain  to  "make  the  boys  behave." 

This  is  Sweetheart's  philosophy.  Girls  behave  by 
nature.  They  are  made  so.  Boys,  on  the  contrary, 
need  to  be  coerced  into  behaviour  —  or  bribed. 

Well,  my  afternoon  was  spoilt  at  any  rate,  and  in  a 
weak  moment  I  said,  "Well,  come  on  then!" 

"It's  all  right !"  announced  Sweetheart  to  the  boys, 
who  had  been  hovering  farther  off  along  the  edges  of 
the  woods ;  "he's  going  to  tell  a  story !" 

How  often  have  I  represented  to  them  that  "he" 
is  the  cat,  and  that  the  word  "father"  is  at  once  more 
natural  and  more  descriptive. 


8  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

They  broke  for  the  plantation  green  with  cries  of  joy 
which  had  the  effect  of  setting  the  dogs  to  their  orisons 
again.  But  this  time  Sir  Toady  entered  the  bricked 
court  and  remorselessly  kicked  them  into  silence.  He 
has  a  way  with  him,  this  young  man. 


"Stories  from  Ivanhoe!  Nonsense  !"  I  said,  when  I 
had  yielded  so  far  as  to  allow  them  to  install  themselves 
under  the  shade  of  a  great  beech,  and  begin  to  eat 
grass  like  so  many  oxen.  "No  —  indeed  !  Ivanhoe  — 
you  can  read  that  for  yourselves  —  " 

"Only  the  fighting  at  the  tournament!"  said  Hugh 
John. 

"The  shooting-match,"  said  Sir  Toady,  "because  it 
is  in  our  school  reader,  and  we  can't  help  it  !" 

"I  don't  know  nothin'  about  it  at  all!"  said  Maid 
Margaret,  secure  in  the  pure  virtue  of  entire  ignorance  ; 
"goon.  Tell  me!" 

"Besides,"  coaxed  Sweetheart,  "ever  so  many  people 
have  written  to  you  asking  for  '  Ivanhoe  '  stories.  And 
they  surely  know  what's  good  for  them.  Only  please 
make  Wilfred  marry  —  " 

Now  I  knew  well  what  this  reckless  young  person 
was  about  to  recommend.  So  I  silenced  her  by  telling 
her  that  if  she  wished  to  take  liberties  with  the  Great 


THE   KEEPER   OF   SWINE  9 

Unknown  and  his  characters,  she  had  better  tell  the 
tale  over  to  herself.  But  I  did  not  need  to  insist. 
The  other  listeners  know  very  well  "when  he  is  just 
going  to  begin,"  and  woe  be  to  the  wretch  who  inter- 
jects a  remark  likely  to  turn  "him"  from  his  purpose. 
"Shut  up,  Sis!"  "Sssssshut  up,  will  you!"  came 
from  all  sides.  Sweetheart  shrank  back  into  alarmed 
silence.  The  trio  settled  themselves  to  eat  grass  with 
bovine  steadiness  and  devotion,  and  I  began 

THE  FIRST  TALE  FROM  "iVANHOE." 


THE  FIRST  TALE   FROM    "IVANHOE" 

I.    THE  KEEPER  OF  SWINE 

IN  the  deepest  glades  of  the  forest  of  Sherwood,  Gurth 
the  swineherd  and  Wamba  the  Jester  were  getting  their 
unhandy  flock  together.  Or  rather  Fangs  the  wolfish 
lurcher,  half  mastiff,  half  greyhound,  did  it  for  them. 

This  all  happened  a  long  time  ago.  For  round  each 
of  the  men's  necks  was  soldered  a  broad  ring  of  brass, 
marking  them  for  "thralls"  of  one  Cedric  of  Rother- 
ham.  Also  Fangs  had  three  toes  cut  from  each  fore- 
foot as  his  badge  of  servitude  to  the  Norman  forest- 
ranger  who  had  caught  him  chasing  the  deer. 


io  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

Yes,  it  was  so  long  ago  as  that.  Richard  of  the  Lion 
Heart  was  king  of  England,  —  or  rather  he  ought  to 
have  been.  But  he  had  gone  a-crusading  to  the  Holy 
Land  to  deliver  the  Holy  Sepulchre  instead  of  staying  at 
home  to  help  deliver  his  people,  who  were  not  accounted 
holy  at  all.  He  had  not  got  on  very  well,  however,  in 
spite  of  all  his  courage.  Knights  Templar  and  Knights 
of  the  Order  of  St.  John  had  thwarted  him,  counting 
Palestine  entirely  their  own;  while  his  enemy,  the 
Duke  of  Austria,  had  seized  him  on  his  return  journey, 
and  shut  him  up  in  the  castle  of  Durrenstein  on  the 
Danube,  in  hopes  of  obtaining  a  great  ransom  before 
letting  loose  on  the  world  so  famous  a  king. 

At  home,  he  was  almost  forgotten.  Prince  John, 
his  wild,  half-cowardly,  half-tyrannical  brother,  reigned 
in  his  stead,  and  did  not  hurry  about  sending  the  money 
for  the  royal  ransom. 

But  Gurth  the  swineherd  and  his  friend  Wamba  the 
Jester  did  not  talk  much  about  these  things  in  the  glades 
of  Sherwood.  Low  in  the  west  a  thunder-storm  was 
rumbling.  The  swine  would  take  no  leading.  Even 
Fangs  only  drove  them  hither  and  thither,  instead  of 
collecting  them  for  their  homeward  journey.  Gurth's 
temper  was  uncertain  at  the  best,  and  Wamba,  fool 
though  he  was,  took  care  not  to  provoke  his  comrade 
beyond  a  certain  point. 


THE   KEEPER   OF   SWINE  n 

"Let  them  go,"  he  said,  as  the  pigs  broke  away; 
"they  will  be  all  Normans  before  the  morning  —  and 
so  be  no  more  trouble  to  you !" 

"What  do  you  mean,  fool?"  growled  Gurth  the 
thrall,  letting  the  gleam  of  a  red  and  sullen  eye  fall  upon 
the  cap-and-bells  of  the  fool;  "I  have  no  time  to  be 
guessing  riddles  to-night!" 

"What  do  you  call  these  grunting  beasts  running 
about  on  four  legs?"  asked  Wamba  the  Fool,  pointing 
to  the  herd  which  Fangs  was  at  last  beginning  to  get 
into  order. 

"Why,  swine,  of  course,  fool!"  growled  Gurth, 
"every  ass  knows  that!" 

"And  those  white  woolly  fellows  on  the  slopes 
yonder?"  he  continued. 

"Sheep,  of  course,  fool!" 

"Yes,"  Wamba  went  on,  making  his  cap  nod  and  his 
bells  jingle,  "and  at  home  in  the  pen  at  your  cottage- 
end  are  several  little  milk-swilling  masters  whose  name 
is  '  Calf '  for  the  present.  But  these,  when  they  appear 
upon  the  table  of  your  betters,  will  be  called  Monsieur 
Veal,  like  good  Normans.  For,  look  you,  good  Gurth,  as 
long  as  these  beasts  need  tending  and  feeding  they  are 
Saxon,  —  Swine,  Sheep,  Calf,  —  all  good  Saxon.  But 
when  they  come  to  be  eaten,  it  is  by  Norman  teeth  and 
under  Norman  names,  as  pork,  veal,  mutton !  What 


12  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

say  you  to  that,  Gurth  the  swineherd  —  friend  Gurth 
the  swineherd?" 

Gurth  sadly  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  but  too  true,"  he  muttered ;  " little  is  left  to  us 
Saxons  now  —  hardly  even  the  air  to  breathe.  The 
best  of  everything  for  them  —  scarce  the  leavings  re- 
main to  us  —  and  even  these  given  with  a  grudge !" 

"Treason  against  the  Norman!"  cried  Wamba. 
"What  if  I  were  to  tell  Reginald  Front  de  Bceuf  or 
Philip  de  Malvoisin  that  you  spoke  thus  —  why,  if  so, 
you  were  but  a  castaway  herdsman.  Why,  man,  you 
would  waver  in  the  wind  from  one  of  these  Sherwood 
trees,  like  a  broken-necked  reed  in  the  winds  of  winter !" 

The  storm  now  began  to  creep  nearer,  but  by  the  help 
of  Fangs,  Gurth  managed  to  head  his  charge  homewards 
so  as  to  escape  before  the  breaking  of  the  tempest. 
But  Wamba's  ear  caught  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs, 
the  jingle  of  rich  caparisons,  the  clink  of  knightly 
armour. 

Now  Gurth,  whose  master  was  Cedric  the  Saxon, 
was  noways  anxious  that  armed  Normans  (for  such  the 
riders  were  almost  sure  to  be)  should  come  across  his 
charge.  Herds  of  swine  were  easily  driven  to  the  near- 
est castle  and  the  herdsman  left  lying  with  a  wound  in 
his  throat,  so  deep  and  wide  that  the  open  mouth  above 
it  would  never  more  tell  tales.  So  he  hastened  his 


THE  KEEPER   OF   SWINE  13 

march  as  best  he  might.  But  Wamba  looked  out  for 
every  village  maid  who  passed,  waving  her  a  salute,  or 
snatching  here  a  handful  of  brambles  and  there  a 
cluster  of  nuts  by  the  wayside,  in  despite  of  both  storms 
and  Normans. 

At  last  the  horsemen  came  up,  ten  in  number,  of 
whom  two  were  obviously  chiefs.  The  first  was  a 
churchman  with  little  churchly  about  him,  save  the 
outward  fashion  of  his  robes.  In  fact  it  was  no  other 
than  Aymer,  the  Prior  of  the  Abbey  of  Jorvaux,  a  jolly 
priest  and  a  lover  of  all  good  cheer  and  good  company. 
There  was  accounted  to  be  no  great  harm  in  him,  and 
at  sight  of  his  monkish  robe  Gurth  heaved  a  sigh  of 
relief.  But  when  he  looked  at  the  other,  it  was  different. 
He,  too,  wore  a  monkish  mantle.  But  underneath 
gleamed  a  suit  of  chain  mail.  His  face  was  burned 
almost  black  with  exposure  to  Eastern  suns,  while  the 
Maltese  cross  on  his  shoulder  proclaimed  him  a  cru- 
sader, and  one  of  the  famous  and  powerful  Order  of 
Knights  of  the  Temple.  His  dusky  followers  were 
slaves  captured  from  the  Saracen,  now  serving  a  new 
master  while  retaining  the  dress,  customs,  and  weapons 
of  the  old. 

So  astonished  was  Wamba  the  Jester  at  the  sudden 
appearance  of  these  dark  faces  and  gleaming  weapons, 
that  he  could  hardly  collect  himself  enough  to  misdirect 


i4  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

them  when  they  demanded  the  road  to  the  house  of  his 
master,  with  whom  they  might  find  shelter  and  hos- 
pitality for  the  night. 

For  Cedric  the  Saxon  had  stood  bravely  in  the  breach. 
He  had  upheld  his  countrymen  in  perilous  times,  and 
now  was  likely  enough  to  suffer  for  it.  Wamba  the  Fool 
resolved  that  it  should  not  happen  through  him. 

"Go  to  the  left  after  you  pass  the  Sunken  Cross," 
he  said,  "and  within  a  mile  or  two  you  will  come 
without  fail  to  the  house  of  our  master." 

But  when  they  were  both  gone,  monk  and  crusader 
alike,  he  held  up  his  hands  before  his  face,  looked  from 
one  to  the  other,  and  cried  out  that  never  had  there  been 
such  luck.  He  had  mistaken  his  right  hand  for  his 
left! 

But  this  stratagem  did  little  good  either  to  the  fool 
or  to  his  master.  For  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  when 
they  came  to  it,  lay  a  man  worn  out  with  weariness,  by 
his  dress  a  "palmer"  or  returned  pilgrim  to  the  Holy 
Sepulchre.  The  Crusader  bade  thrust  him  with  the 
lance-butt  to  awake  him.  But  before  the  slave  could 
obey  the  man  sprung  up,  and,  upon  hearing  their  need, 
offered  immediately  to  guide  them  to  the  dwelling  of 
Cedric  the  Saxon,  which  he  declared  to  be  intricately 
situated  in  the  midst  of  marshes  and  woods,  and  not 
to  be  found  without  assistance. 


WAMBA    MISDIRECTS    PRIOR    AVMER    AND    THE    TEMPLAR. 


THE   KEEPER   OF   SWINE  15 

To  the  Crusader's  reproach,  that,  being  a  palmer,  he 
had  better  have  remained  to  fight  for  the  recovery  of  the 
tomb  of  Christ  from  the  infidel,  he  replied  as  fiercely, 
that  "when  those  under  oath  to  recover  the  Holy  City 
were  found  so  far  afield,  it  was  no  wonder  if  simple 
peasants  grew  tired  of  the  task  which  their  betters  had 
abandoned  !" 

The  Templar  was  about  to  make  some  angry  reply, 
but  the  Prior,  who  desired  most  of  all  to  reach  some 
place  of  shelter  for  the  night,  checked  him,  and  soon 
they  came  in  sight  of  Rotherham. 


The  dwelling  of  Cedric  was  an  extensive  building,  or 
rather  collection  of  buildings  —  a  real  "town"  of  the 
Saxons.  It  was  no  mere  Norman  keep  or  tall  cliff  of 
masonry  with  a  few  huts  of  retainers  battened  upon 
it  like  so  many  swallows'  nests  of  mud,  but  a  real 
dwelling  for  men  of  different  ranks  —  men  who, 
though  not  equal,  yet  even  as  master  and  thrall 
respected  each  other,  and  counted  all  from  "jarl"  to 
swineherd  as  of  one  family. 

Rotherham  was  not  defenceless.  It  had  fosse,  stock- 
ade, and  drawbridge,  according  to  the  rules  of  war. 
Indeed  Cedric's  enemies,  of  whom  he  had  many, 
declared  that  it  was  but  a  perpetual  armed  camp,  like 


16  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

that  of  his  ancestor  Hereward,  threatening  the  tall 
stone  castles  of  his  Norman  neighbours.  Gurth  was 
late  in  arriving,  and  Cedric  the  Saxon  had  long  grown 
most  uneasy.  Though  his  words  were  rough,  he  loved 
his  thralls  like  a  father,  and  he  much  feared  that  some 
Norman  free-lance  had  stolen  the  herd  and  left  their 
faithful  guardian  lying  in  his  blood,  as  had  often  been 
done  before  to  others  of  his  nation  and  calling. 

Cedric  of  Rotherham  was  a  stout,  hearty  man  of  great 
courage  and  general  good  nature,  but  with  an  eye  which 
denoted  frequent  bouts  of  temper. 

"Ah,"  he  muttered  to  himself  as  he  thought  of  his 
wrongs,  "if  only  Wilfred  had  not  been  so  hot  and 
foolish,  I  should  not  have  been  left  alone  among  these 
hungry  Norman  tyrants." 

But  just  then  the  horn  of  the  Templar  without  the 
gate  waked  him  from  sad  thoughts  of  his  absent  son. 
He  ordered  the  strangers  to  be  received  and  well  cared 
for  —  all  the  more  so  that  they  were  Normans,  and 
the  Templar,  at  least,  a  man  of  dangerous  reputation. 
Cedric  would  be  accounted,  even  by  his  foes,  no  nig- 
gard churl. 

"Oswald,"  he  said  to  his  butler,  "go  broach  the  old- 
est cask,  pour  out  the  most  sparkling  cider,  the  richest 
mead,  the  moral  of  honey  and  mulberries  —  and"  (here 
he  turned  to  a  smart  waiting-maid)  "let  the  Lady 


THE  KEEPER   OF   SWINE  17 

Rowena  know  that  to-night  we  shall  not  expect  her  in 
hall,  unless  such  be  her  especial  pleasure!" 

"But  it  will  be  her  especial  pleasure,"  returned  the 
maid,  pertly,  like  one  who  is  sure  of  her  favour,  "for  I 
warrant  she  will  like  to  hear  the  latest  news  from  Pales- 
tine!" 

"Silence,"  cried Cedric;  "deliver  my  message  without 
comment.  If  the  Lady  Rowena  comes,  we  must  make 
the  best  of  it.  Here  at  least  she  shall  reign  like  the 
daughter  of  King  Alfred  !" 

The  handmaiden  had  spoken  truth.  Either  curiosity 
or  the  desire  to  tease  her  protector  —  perhaps  also  in 
part  Elgitha's  account  of  the  two  gallant  Norman 
gentlemen  —  brought  the  Lady  Rowena  to  the  hall  as 
usual,  where  the  Prior  paid  her  compliments,  and  the 
Templar  stared  her  out  of  countenance  till  she  was 
obliged  to  draw  her  veil  about  her  face. 

Meanwhile  the  night  had  broken  into  fiercer  storm 
without,  and  the  guests  were  hardly  seated,  before  a  yet 
more  bedraggled  wayfarer  was  announced  —  this  time 
a  Jew,  one  Isaac  of  York  by  name.  He  was  an  old 
man,  tall  and  spare,  clad  in  the  long  gabardine  and 
yellow  cap  of  his  race.  His  welcome  was  of  the  most 
scanty.  Cedric  indeed  insisted  on  admitting  him  — 
though  the  Normans,  his  first  guests,  cried  sacrilege 
and  cursed  the  Israelite  aloud.  None,  however,  made 


i8  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

place  for  him  at  the  table.  The  sturdy  Saxon  men-at- 
arms  squared  their  shoulders  and  went  on  eating.  Even 
the  Saracen  slaves  laid  their  hands  on  their  daggers  and 
growled  threats  against  the  "Yahoudi!" 

So  that  after  having  gone  from  one  end  of  the  hall  to 
the  other,  looking  vainly  about  him  for  a  friendly  face, 
the  old  man  was  about  to  retire,  hoping  to  find,  perhaps, 
some  kindlier  shelter  among  the  cattle  in  byre  or  barn, 
when  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  arm.  He  started  violently, 
for  grasps  which  fell  thus  upon  Jewish  gabardines  were 
not  generally  those  of  friendly  fingers.  This  time,  how- 
ever, it  was  the  palmer,  who  had  quitted  the  great  chim- 
ney corner  and  now  drew  the  Jew  to  his  vacant  place. 

"I  have  eaten,"  he  said ;  "my  clothes  are  now  dry  — 
you  are  both  wet  and  hungry.  Sit  down !" 

And  walking  to  the  board  with  the  freedom  of  his 
order,  he  brought  the  persecuted  Jew  a  smoking  mess 
of  pottage  and  seethed  kid  heaped  together  in  a  great 
platter. 

In  the  hall  about  the  high  table  the  talk  had  fallen 
as  usual  upon  the  Wars  of  the  Holy  Places,  and  who 
were  the  bravest  of  the  Crusaders.  The  Templar  De 
Bois-Guilbert  held  for  his  own  order,  as  was  natural. 
The  Prior,  for  the  Knights  Hospitaller,  because  he 
had  a  brother  of  that  order.  Cedric  maintained  that 
Richard,  their  English  King,  had  taken  with  him  the 


THE   KEEPER   OF   SWINE  19 

bravest  of  the  brave  —  the  pick  of  the  nation,  Saxon 
and  Norman  alike. 

Suddenly  the  palmer,  who  had  been  listening,  unseen, 
to  the  discussion,  struck  in  as  Cedric  ceased  speaking. 

''Right,"  he  said;  "I  saw  our  King  Richard  and 
five  of  his  knights,  after  the  taking  of  Acre,  hold  a 
tournament  against  all  comers.  On  that  famous  day 
each  of  the  six  English  knights  ran  three  courses,  and 
threw  to  the  ground  three  opponents.  And  Sir  Brian 
de  Bois-Guilbert  well  knows  the  truth  of  what  I  say!" 

The  Templar  purpled  with  anger,  for  he  had  been 
one  of  those  fallen  opponents.  He  gripped  his  sword  as 
if  on  the  spot  he  would  have  slain  the  palmer.  But 
this  he  could  not  do,  because  Cedric,  simple  and  child- 
like of  heart,  openly  triumphed  in  the  news  so  oppor- 
tunely brought  by  the  pilgrim. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  he  cried;  "I  wager  there 
were  Saxons  among  them.  I  will  set  a  gold  bracelet  on 
your  wrist  if  you  will  but  tell  me  their  names." 

"That  will  I  do,"  said  the  palmer,  "but  without 
reward.  I  have  a  vow  which  keeps  me  from  touching 
gold  —  in  this  house,"  he  added,  in  his  heart. 

"The  King  was  first,"  said  the  palmer,  "that  day  as 
always.  After  him  came  the  Earl  of  Leicester.  Sir 
Thomas  Multon  of  Gilsland  was  the  third." 

"Of  Saxon  descent,  he  at  least !"  cried  Cedric. 


20  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

"SirFoulkDoilly!" 

"Saxon  by  his  mother's  side !"  cried  Cedric,  clapping 
his  thigh. 

"Then  Sir  Edward  Turneham!" 

"Genuine  Saxon,  by  the  soul  of  Hengist!"  shouted 
Cedric ;  "now  name  the  sixth.  If  he  should  also  prove 
Saxon,  that  would  put  us  as  far  forward  as  we  were  on 
the  day  of  the  Battle  of  the  Standard,  when  we  fought 
the  Scots  side  by  side  with  the  Normans!" 

The  palmer  hesitated.  For  the  first  time  his  memory 
seemed  confused. 

"I  have  forgotten,"  he  said;  "it  was,  I  believe,  a 
young  knight  who  was  added,  more  to  make  up  the 
number  than  because  of  any  bravery  or  skill." 

"Sir  Palmer,"  cried  the  Templar,  "you  shall  not 
thus  escape  after  remembering  so  much.  I  will  tell 
the  name  of  this  last  knight,  before  whom,  owing  to  a 
splintered  lance  and  a  faulty  horse,  even  I  went  down. 
He  was  called  the  Knight  of  Ivanhoe.  Nor  was  there 
one  of  the  six,  for  his  years,  that  had  more  renown  in 
arms.  But  this  I  will  say  and  loudly,  that  were  he  in 
England  and  dared  repeat  in  this  week's  tournament  at 
Ashby  the  challenge  of  Acre,  I  would  gladly  give  him 
every  choice  and  advantage  of  weapons  and  abide  the 
result." 

"Words  are  cheap,"  said  the  palmer;  "if  Wilfred  of 


THE   KEEPER    OF   SWINE  31 

Ivanhoe  were  in  England,  he  would  take  up  your  chal- 
lenge —  and  even  now  I  will  be  security  for  him !" 

"Faith,  a  goodly  security!"  sneered  the  Templar, 
looking  at  the  poor  garb  of  the  pilgrim;  "and  what  do 
you  offer  as  a  pledge?" 

"This  precious  casket  of  ivory  containing  a  piece  of 
the  true  cross,  brought  from  the  Monastery  of  Mount 
Carmel!"  said  the  other,  instantly  setting  a  beautiful 
box  upon  the  table. 

At  sight  of  it  the  Prior  reverently  crossed  himself,  and 
said  a  Paternoster  aloud,  in  which  all  except  the  Jew, 
the  Moslems,  and  the  Templar  joined.  The  latter 
merely  took  from  his  neck  a  golden  chain,  which  he  flung 
on  the  table,  crying,  "Let  Prior  Aymer  hold  my  pledge 
and  that  of  this  nameless  vagrant,  in  token  that  so 
soon  as  the  Knight  of  Ivanhoe  comes  within  the  four 
seas,  he  must  fight  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert,  or  be  pro- 
claimed a  coward  on  the  walls  of  every  Temple  Court  in 
Europe !" 

"And  I  also  will  be  surety  for  him,"  cried  the  Lady 
Rowena,  checking  herself  with  a  bright  flush  as  if  she 
would  gladly  have  said  more  if  she  had  dared. 

"And  I,  myself,  though  offended  and  justly  offended 
—  I  would  be  the  boy's  surety,  if  such  were  needed !" 
growled  Cedric,  across  whose  face  pride,  anger,  and 
scarcely  concealed  pleasure  had  been  chasing  each  other. 


22  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

"Now  we  must  to  bed  !"  said  the  Prior,  who,  though 
fond  of  company,  was  a  man  of  peace,  and  saw  that  in 
such  a  house,  betwixt  Saxon  host  and  Norman  guest,  a 
little  spark  might  kindle  a  very  great  fire. 

******* 

H.    COUNCIL  OF  CONNOISSEURS 

There  was  a  serious  pause.  At  another  time  I  should 
have  known  what  that  meant.  Sometimes,  when  much 
in  the  humour,  I  have  been  known  to  "keep  on,"  and 
so  get  them  off  "Prep"  or  "Stale" — which,  as  all 
boys  know,  consists  in  pretending  to  do  to-morrow's 
class  lessons  and  doing  something  else  for  to-day.  On 
this  occasion,  however,  there  could  be  no  such  intention. 
For  it  was  the  heart  of  the  "Long,"  when  lessons  and 
the  need  to  do  them  were  as  far  from  their  minds  as  the 
Hydrography  of  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon  —  or  any 
other  "ography,"  "ometry, "  or  "ology"  whatsoever. 
Chocolate  creams  and  more  fruit  than  was  good  for 
them,  for  the  moment  bounded  their  desires.  Fre- 
quently I  had  represented  the  folly  of  this. 

"There  is,"  I  pointed  out,  "always  a  to-morrow  when 
one  must  pay  for  having  '  too  much '  of  anything  in  this 
world."  "The  little  more  and  how  much  it  is,"  I 
quoted  to  them,  directing  their  thoughts  to  the  family 


COUNCIL   OF   CONNOISSEURS  23 

medicine  chest.  'But  all  four  were  rank  opportunists, 
and  went  on  serenely  picking  gooseberries. 

"Oh,  bother  To-morrow!"  said  Sir  Toady  Lion, 
always  the  chief  scorner  of  the  wisdom  of  the  ages. 
His  buoyant  youth  cares  about  no  greybeard  sermon  — 
that  is,  till  it  comes  to  the  application,  and  even  that 
had  better  be  brought  home  to  him  with  an  ash-plant. 

As  they  ate  grass  and  sorrel  stalks  afterwards  they 
threw  comments  over  their  shoulders.  Some  of  these 
concerned  the  quality  of  the  juice,  while  others  were 
designed  to  compel  me  to  continue  the  tale  of  Saxon 
and  Norman  without  conditions.  A  few,  but  those  of 
modern  and  informative  character,  concerned  the  part 
of  the  story  I  had  been  telling  them. 

"D'ye  ever  notice,"  said  Hugh  John,  the  elder  of  the 
two  boys,  to  his  standing  accomplice,  Sir  Toady  Lion, 
"that  there  are  always  storms  coming  on  at  the  be- 
ginning of  books?  Then  all  the  good  people  scuttle 
somewhere  else  to  keep  dry,  just  where  the  bad  people 
are  waiting  to  nab  them?" 

Toady  Lion,  cramming  four  sorrel  stalks  into  his 
mouth  at  once  so  as  not  to  lose  time,  replied  that  he 
had  noticed  it,  but  that  on  this  occasion  it  was  the  bad 
people  whom  the  storm  drove  out  of  their  way  to  find 
the  good  people. 

"I  don't  like  that  one  they  found  pretending  to  be 


24  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

asleep  by  the  Sunken  Cross  —  him  that  told  them  the 
road,  you  know!"  he  added  seriously. 

At  this  Sweetheart  smiled  serenely  and  glanced  at  me. 
She  likes  to  be  "  in  the  know."  Besides,  she  has  already 
read  the  book,  though  she  very  kindly  listens  all  the 
same.  Hugh  John  caught  the  look,  to  which  he  par- 
ticularly objected. 

"Sis  Sweetheart  thinks  she  is  mighty  clever,"  he 
cried;  "she  is  looking  over  at  father.  I  bet  that  old 
palmer  fellow  was  somebody.  I  bet  he's  Richard  Coeur 
de  Lion  come  back  again  —  the  fellow  you  were  named 
after  (this  he  explained  in  an  aside  to  Sir  Toady 
Lion),  and  he's  going  to  make  old  Templar  Brian  de 
Something- Just- Awful- Grand  as  sick  as  he  can  be. 
I'll  bet  you  my  new  knife  to  your  old  catapult  it  goes 
like  that!" 

"Of  course,"  agreed  Sir  Toady;  "any  fellow  could 
see  that.  But  I  don't  believe  that  he  is  King  Richard  — 
not  grand  enough,  nearly!" 

"Oh,"  sneered  Hugh  John,  with  whom  irony  was  a 
favourite  mode  of  expression,  "I  suppose  he  should 
have  come  home  as  an  archbishop,  or  dressed  up  like 
a  Lion  holding  his  'heart'  between  his  teeth !" 

"You  nasty,  horrid  boy !"  exclaimed  Sweetheart,  who 
has  a  dislike  to  the  metaphors  of  the  butcher's  shop. 

Meanwhile    Maid    Margaret,    official   Wheedler-in- 


COUNCIL   OF   CONNOISSEURS  25 

Chief  to  the  quartette,  perched  herself  upon  the  tale- 
teller's knee,  and  addressed  the  following  words  in  a 
low  tone  in  his  immediate  ear :  — 

"Won't  you  —  mumble-mumble  —  then  -they  will 
stop  .  .  .  mumble-mumble  —  ?  Boys  is  so  silly,  you 
know!" 

Girls,  of  course,  are  anything  but.  For  at  that 
moment  she  pleaded  for  a  continuation  of  the  tale, 
pressing  a  wisp  of  blond  curl  soft  as  silk  against  my 
cheek,  and  letting  the  words  "Won't  you  —  won't  you 
NOW?"  escape  with  a  liquid  gurgle  from  her  throat, 
so  that  the  Second  Tale  from  Ivanhoe  was  as  good  as 
told.  But  I  did  not  mind.  Maid  Margaret  lay  still 
in  my  lap,  listening,  and  encouraging  the  narrator  with 
soft  little  pats  and  caresses,  which  fell  indiscriminately 
on  his  cheek,  neck,  nose,  hair,  and  coat  collar. 

The  boys,  especially  Hugh  John,  sniffed  loudly  upon 
the  nose  of  contempt.  But  the  Maid  kept  on,  not 
minding  them  a  bit.  She  knew  her  business  value. 
And  in  their  heart  of  hearts  they,  too,  knew  the  power  of 
such  things.  Not  for  nothing,  but  very  much  for  the 
advantage  of  the  community,  had  she  been  named 
Wheedler-in-Chief  to  the  forces  in  the  field. 


26  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

THE   SECOND    TALE   FROM   "IVANHOE" 

I.    THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES   OF   ASHBY 

ON  the  morrow  the  house  of  Cedric  the  Saxon  awoke 
to  find  itself  lacking  two  of  its  guests.  The  palmer  and 
the  Jew  Isaac  of  York  had  departed  silently  in  the 
night.  Gurth  the  swineherd,  too,  had  mysteriously 
vanished.  Another  must  lead  out  his  grunting  charge 
that  morning  into  the  oaken  glades  of  Sherwood. 

And  all  owing  to  certain  words  spoken  in  the  Saracen 
tongue,  which  the  palmer  had  overheard  the  Templar 
address  to  his  slaves  the  night  before,  ordering  them  to 
seize  the  Jew,  and  convey  him  for  torture  and  ransom 
to  the  keep  of  one  of  the  cruel  Norman  lords  who  were 
Cedric's  immediate  neighbours. 

It  had  proved  a  busy  night  for  the  palmer.  First  he 
had  been  commanded  to  speak  with  the  Lady  Rowena, 
who  wished  to  know  more  about  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe,  the 
knight  of  whom  he  had  spoken  in  hall.  Then,  return- 
ing to  his  cell,  he  had  awakened  the  Jew,  in  order  to 
tell  him  of  his  danger,  and  last  of  all  the  surly  swineherd 
Gurth,  in  whose  ear  he  whispered  a  word  which  brought 
him  out  of  his  bed  and  to  his  knees  in  a  moment. 

In  the  morning,  therefore,  there  was  in  Rotherham  no 
palmer  to  give  further  news  of  the  absent  to  the  Lady 


THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES    OF   ASHBY      27 

Rowena,  no  swineherd  to  guide  the  flocks  of  Cedric, 
and  no  rich  Jew  from  whom  the  Templar  might  extract 
alternate  teeth  and  sequins. 

But  in  Rotherham  also  there  was  little  time  to  think 
of  such  things.  None,  except  perhaps  the  Lady  Row- 
ena, thought  of  anything  but  the  great  tournament. 
The  Templar  was  the  chief  challenger  at  the  lists  of 
Ashby.  His  pavilion  was  already  erected  in  the  midst 
of  the  other  four,  between  those  of  Front  de  Bceuf  and 
Philip  de  Malvoisin.  Rowena  and  Cedric  were  on  their 
way  as  spectators.  Isaac  of  York  had  joined  his 
daughter  Rebecca,  and  both  were  already  safe  with 
friends  of  their  own  nation.  As  for  the  palmer  and 
Gurth  —  where  these  two  had  hidden  themselves  must 
be  told  later. 

Prince  John,  the  King's  half-rebel  brother,  was  to 
sit  in  the  Royal  seat  at  the  lists.  A  long  programme 
had  been  arranged,  beginning  with  the  battles  of  steel- 
clad  knights,  and  ending  with  the  popular  sports,  by 
which  the  Prince  hoped  to  win  the  commons  to  stand 
by  him,  if  ever  his  brother  returned  from  captivity. 

The  tournament  field  was  something  like  this  —  an 
enclosure  of  strong  palings  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long  and 
half  as  broad.  Within  were  five  pavilions  or  large 
decorated  tents  at  the  southern  end,  where  there  was  a 
kind  of  rising  ground.  These  were  for  the  challengers. 


28  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

A  pennon  waved  from  a  lance  before  each,  guarded  by  a 
squire  dressed  as  a  savage  or  wild  Man-of-the- Woods  — • 
from  which  custom  comes  the  supporters  upon  heraldic 
coats-of-arms. 

Down  either  side  there  were  pavilions  built  like  grand- 
stands for  the  princes  and  nobles  with  their  ladies.  A 
lower  belt  of  seats  like  the  pit  of  a  wide  theatre  was  for 
the  rich  yeomen  and  burghers,  while  about  the  barriers 
thronged  the  commons  —  broad  in  jest  and  free  in 
comment  as  ever. 

Prince  John,  who  hated  all  things  Saxon,  and  who 
had  borrowed  much  money  of  Isaac  of  York,  was  mis- 
chievously resolved  to  place  the  Jew  and  his  daughter 
next  to  the  seats  of  Cedric  and  Rowena.  Their  neigh- 
bour Athelstane  of  Coningsburgh,  a  Saxon  of  the  line 
royal,  a  strong  but  unready  man,  was  sharply  ordered 
to  move  in  order  to  make  room.  He  sat  still. 

"Touch  the  Saxon  porker  with  your  lance,  De 
Bracy!"  cried  the  Prince;  "he  is  either  asleep  or  else 
minds  me  not!" 

And  De  Bracy,  a  free-lance,  who  cared  nothing  either 
for  Saxon  or  Celt,  and  but  little  for  Norman  so  that  he 
earned  his  pay,  would  have  obeyed  the  Prince's  order, 
had  not  Cedric  as  swift  as  lightning  unsheathed  the 
short  sword  he  wore,  and  striking  once,  he  severed  the 
point  of  De  Bracy's  lance  from  the  shaft. 


THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES   OF  ASHBY      29 

" Bravo!  Oh,  bravo!"  cried  a  yeoman  from  the 
crowd.  Prince  John,  not  venturing  for  the  moment  to 
offend  the  Saxons  further,  bent  angry  brows  upon  the 
bold  yeoman,  but  the  man  went  on  applauding,  nothing 
daunted.  Fiercely  Prince  John  demanded  what  he 
meant  by  clamouring  so  in  his  hearing. 

"I  always  add  my  hollo,"  answered  the  man,  "when 
I  see  a  good  shot  or  a  gallant  blow !" 

"Sayst  thou,"  sneered  the  Prince;  "then  I  warrant 
you  can  hit  the  white  yourself?" 

"A  woodman's  mark,  at  woodman's  distance  I  can 
hit!"  quoth  the  yeoman. 

"Well,"  cried  the  Prince,  "we  will  try  you." 

"Ay,  Wat  Tyrrel's  mark  at  a  hundred  yards!" 
cried  a  voice  from  the  crowd,  meaning  that  even  Prince 
John  must  not  presume  too  far,  or  the  fate  of  William 
Rufus,  his  not  distant  kinsman,  might  be  his.  The 
Prince's  face  flushed,  partly  with  fear,  more  with  anger. 
But  the  speaker  remained  invisible,  so  that  he  could  do 
no  more  than  order  his  escort  to  keep  an  eye  on  "that 
braggart,"  as  he  called  the  yeoman  who  had  applauded 
Cedric's  stroke. 

Still,  however,  he  insisted  on  the  Jew  climbing  up  to 
sit  beside  the  Saxon  lords,  whom  he  delighted  above  all 
things  to  humiliate. 

"Up  with  you,"  he  bade  the  unwilling  Isaac,  "or  I 


30  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

will  have  your  infidel  hide  tanned  for  horse  furniture ! 
And  let  me  see  who  dares  to  hinder  you !" 

Cedric  the  Saxon  was  obviously  prepared  to  hurl  the 
Jew  down  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  top  of  the  narrow 
stairs,  and  in  that  case  a  serious  outbreak  might  have 
been  expected.  But  Wamba  the  Jester,  who  had  brought 
a  solid  square  of  brawn  with  him,  wherewith  to  while 
away  the  long  hours  of  tourneying,  suddenly  thrust  it 
in  the  Jew's  face  like  a  shield,  and,  waving  his  sword  of 
lath  over  his  head,  so  terrified  the  old  man  that  he 
stumbled  and  fell  headlong  down  the  ladder. 

At  this  every  one  laughed,  and  Prince  John  thought  it 
well  to  laugh  also. 

"Make  room  for  the  Jew  in  the  lower  ring,"  he  said, 
"we  cannot  put  the  victor  on  the  same  level  as  the 
vanquished."  And,  demanding  a  handful  of  gold 
byzants  from  the  Jew,  he  threw  a  couple  of  them  to  the 
fool  and  rode  off,  amid  as  much  laughter  and  applause 
from  the  spectators  as  if  he  had  done  some  honest  and 
worthy  deed. 


The  first  assault  upon  the  challengers  was  made  by 
parties  of  five,  chosen  by  lot  out  of  the  crowd  of  knights 
gathered  in  the  southern  enclosure.  It  was  All- 
comers' Day.  But  Bois-Guilbert  and  Front  de  Boeuf 


THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES   OF  ASHBY      31 

with  their  companions  were  easily  victors  —  somewhat 
too  easily  indeed  to  please  Cedric  the  Saxon,  who  hinted 
hopes  of  glory  to  his  companion  Athelstane  of  Conings- 
burgh  to  spur  him  on  to  match  his  huge  strength  against 
the  victorious  Normans. 

But  he  only  replied,  lazily  as  ever,  that  he  did  not 
think  it  worth  while  to  arm  to-day,  but  that  he  would 
tilt  in  the  melee  to-morrow. 

After  the  fourth  tilt,  however,  there  was  a  general 
and  marked  disinclination  to  try  conclusions  with 
challengers  who  had  so  often  been  victorious,  and  espe- 
cially with  Front  de  Bceuf  and  the  redoubtable  De  Bois- 
Guilbert. 

The  Saracen  music  breathed  ever  more  harshly  and 
scornfully  from  behind  the  Northern  tents,  and  it  was 
only  after  long  waiting  that  a  solitary  trumpet  blew,  and, 
the  gates  being  opened,  a  challenger  clad  in  steel  and 
gold  with  his  visor  down  rode  into  the  lists.  He  had  on 
his  shield  the  device  of  a  young  oak  pulled  up  by  the 
roots,  and  the  Spanish  motto  "DESDICHADO, "  which 
means  Disinherited. 

After  their  manner  the  crowd,  Saxons  mainly,  was 
friendly  to  the  newcomer. 

"Take  Vipont!"  they  cried,  giving  the  name  of  the 
one  of  the  challengers  who  was  accounted  the  weakest. 

But  instead  the  Disinherited  Knight  rode  straight  up 


32  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

to  the  pavilion  of  De  Bois-GuUbert,  and  struck  the  sus- 
pended shield  with  the  sharp  end  of  his  lance  till  the 
steel  rang  again. 


[But  even  to  listening  bairns  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  retell  the  Passage  of  Arms  at  Ashby  in  other  words 
than  those  of  the  Master.  So  I  took  the  book  itself 
from  my  pocket,  and  opening  at  the  best-thumbed 
passage  I  read  aloud  the  moving  pages,  which  have  been, 
in  all  times,  a  boy's  best  introduction  to  Sir  Walter.] 


The  two  champions  stood  opposed  at  the  two  extremi- 
ties of  the  lists.  The  public  expectation  was  strained  to 
the  highest  pitch. 

The  trumpets  had  no  sooner  given  the  signal,  than 
the  champions  vanished  from  their  posts  with  the  speed 
of  lightning,  and  closed  in  the  centre  of  the  lists  with  the 
shock  of  a  thunderbolt.  The  lances  burst  into  shivers 
up  to  the  very  grasp,  and  it  seemed  at  the  moment  that 
both  knights  had  fallen,  for  the  shock  had  made  each 
horse  recoil  backwards  upon  its  haunches.  The  address 
of  the  riders  recovered  their  steeds  by  use  of  the  bridle 
and  spur ;  and  having  glared  on  each  other  for  an  instant 
with  eyes  which  seemed  to  flash  fire  through  the  bars 


THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES   OF  ASHBY      33 

of  their  visors,  each  made  a  demivolt,  and,  retiring  to 
the  extremity  of  the  lists,  received  a  fresh  lance  from  the 
attendants. 

A  loud  shout  from  the  spectators,  waving  of  scarfs 
and  handkerchiefs,  and  general  acclamations,  attested 
the  interest  taken  by  the  spectators  in  this  encounter; 
the  most  equal,  as  well  as  the  best  performed,  which  had 
graced  the  day.  But  no  sooner  had  the  knights  re- 
sumed their  station,  than  the  clamour  of  applause  was 
hushed  into  a  silence,  so  deep  and  so  dead,  that  it  seemed 
the  multitude  were  afraid  even  to  breathe. 

A  few  minutes'  pause  having  been  allowed,  that  the 
combatants  and  their  horses  might  recover  breath, 
Prince  John  with  his  truncheon  signed  to  the  trumpets 
to  sound  the  onset.  The  champions  a  second  time 
sprang  from  their  stations,  and  closed  in  the  centre  of 
the  lists,  with  the  same  speed,  the  same  dexterity,  the 
same  violence,  but  not  the  same  equal  fortune,  as  before. 

In  this  second  encounter,  the  Templar  aimed  at  the 
centre  of  his  antagonist's  shield,  and  struck  it  so  fair  and 
forcibly,  that  his  spear  went  to  shivers,  and  the  Disin- 
herited Knight  reeled  in  his  saddle.  On  the  other  hand, 
that  champion  had,  in  the  beginning  of  his  career, 
directed  the  point  of  his  lance  towards  Bois-Guilbert's 
shield,  but,  changing  his  aim  almost  in  the  moment  of 
encounter,  he  addressed  it  to  the  helmet,  a  mark  more 


34  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

difficult  to  hit,  but  which,  if  attained,  rendered  the  shock 
more  irresistible.  Fair  and  true  he  hit  the  Norman  on 
the  visor,  where  his  lance's  point  kept  hold  of  the  bars. 
Yet,  even  at  this  disadvantage,  the  Templar  sustained 
his  high  reputation,  and  had  not  the  girths  of  his  saddle 
burst,  he  might  not  have  been  unhorsed.  As  it  chanced, 
however,  saddle,  horse,  and  man  rolled  on  the  ground 
under  a  cloud  of  dust. 

To  extricate  himself  from  the  stirrups  and  fallen 
steed  was  to  the  Templar  scarce  the  work  of  a  moment ; 
and,  stung  with  madness,  both  at  his  disgrace  and  at  the 
acclamations  with  which  it  was  hailed  by  the  spectators, 
he  drew  his  sword,  and  waved  it  in  defiance  of  his  con- 
queror. The  Disinherited  Knight  sprang  from  his 
steed,  and  also  unsheathed  his  sword.  The  marshals 
of  the  field,  however,  spurred  their  horses  between 
them,  and  reminded  them  that  the  laws  of  the  tourna- 
ment did  not,  on  the  present  occasion,  permit  this  species 
of  encounter. 

"We  shall  meet  again,  I  trust,"  said  the  Templar, 
casting  a  resentful  glance  at  his  antagonist ;  "and  where 
there  are  none  to  separate  us." 

"If  we  do  not,"  said  the  Disinherited  Knight,  "the 
fault  shall  not  be  mine.  On  foot,  or  horseback,  with 
spear,  with  axe,  or  with  sword,  I  am  alike  ready  to 
encounter  you." 


THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES    OF   ASHBY      35 

Without  again  alighting  from  his  horse,  the  con- 
queror called  for  a  bowl  of  wine,  and,  opening  the 
beaver  or  lower  part  of  his  helmet,  announced  that  he 
quaffed  it,  "To  all  true  English  hearts,  and  to  the  con- 
fusion of  foreign  tyrants."  He  then  commanded  his 
trumpet  to  sound  a  defiance  to  the  challengers,  and 
desired  a  herald  to  announce  to  them  that  he  should 
make  no  election,  but  was  willing  to  encounter  them  in 
the  order  in  which  they  pleased  to  advance  against  him. 

The  gigantic  Front  de  Bceuf ,  armed  in  sable  armour, 
was  the  first  who  took  the  field.  He  bore  on  a  white 
shield  a  black  bull's  head,  half  defaced  by  the  numerous 
encounters  which  he  had  undergone,  and  bearing  the 
arrogant  motto,  "Cave,  adsum"  Over  this  champion 
the  Disinherited  Knight  obtained  a  slight  but  decisive 
advantage.  Both  knights  broke  their  lances  fairly, 
but  Front  de  Bceuf,  who  lost  a  stirrup  in  the  encounter, 
was  adjudged  to  have  the  disadvantage. 

In  the  stranger's  third  encounter,  with  Sir  Philip 
Malvoisin,  he  was  equally  successful ;  striking  that 
baron  so  forcibly  on  the  casque,  that  the  laces  of  the 
helmet  broke,  and  Malvoisin,  only  saved  from  falling 
by  being  unhelmeted,  was  declared  vanquished  like  his 
companions. 

In  his  fourth  combat,  with  De  Grantmesnil,  the  Disin- 
herited Knight  showed  as  much  courtesy  as  he  had 


36  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

hitherto  evinced  courage  and  dexterity.  De  Grant- 
mesnil's  horse,  which  was  young  and  violent,  reared  and 
plunged  in  the  course  of  the  career  so  as  to  disturb  the 
rider's  aim,  and  the  stranger,  declining  to  take  the 
advantage  which  this  accident  afforded  him,  raised  his 
lance,  and,  passing  his  antagonist  without  touching  him, 
wheeled  his  horse  and  rode  back  again  to  his  own  end 
of  the  lists,  offering  his  antagonist,  by  a  herald,  the 
chance  of  a  second  encounter.  This  De  Grantmesnil 
declined,  avowing  himself  vanquished  as  much  by  the 
courtesy  as  by  the  address  of  his  opponent. 

Ralph  de  Vipont  summed  up  the  list  of  the  stranger's 
triumphs,  being  hurled  to  the  ground  with  such  force 
that  the  blood  gushed  from  his  nose  and  mouth,  and  he 
was  borne  senseless  from  the  lists. 

The  acclamations  of  thousands  applauded  the  unan- 
imous award  of  the  prince  and  marshals,  announcing 
that  day's  honours  to  the  Disinherited  Knight. 

"Who  is  he?  Who  is  this  hard-driving  fighter?" 
Over  and  over  the  question  was  asked  by  those  about 
the  person  of  Prince  John. 

"Some  stray  Crusader  of  King  Richard's,  straggling 
home  from  Palestine,"  was  the  general  answer. 

" But  who ? "  they  asked  again.  "Salisbury  is  bigger 
in  the  bone  —  Sir  Thomas  Multon  — ?" 

"It  might  be  the  king  —  perhaps  Cceur  de  Lion 


THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES   OF   ASHBY      37 

himself!"  None  knew  from  whom  the  whisper  came, 
but  the  very  breath  of  it  paled  the  cheek  of  Prince  John. 

"  Over-Gods  forbode!"  cried  he,  using  his  favourite 
oath,  "Waldemar,  Bracy,  remember  your  promises 
and  stand  by  me!" 

"No  danger!"  said  Waldemar  Fitzurse,  the  chief  of 
Prince  John's  councillors,  a  little  scornfully;  "are  you 
so  ill  acquainted  with  the  gigantic  limbs  of  your  father's 
son  as  to  think  that  they  could  be  contained  by  yonder 
suit  of  armour?" 

And  the  Prince  Usurper  was  in  fact  somewhat  re- 
assured when  the  marshals  brought  forward  the  Disin- 
herited Knight  to  receive  his  own  prize  of  a  noble 
warhorse,  and  to  hear  his  princely  words  of  commenda- 
tion. The  victor  received  also  the  famous  Crown  of 
Love  and  Beauty  with  full  liberty  to  give  it  to  any  lady 
present  at  the  tournament,  who,  from  that  moment, 
must  be  served  by  all  with  queenly  honours  so  long  as 
the  gathering  lasted. 

But  the  Prince,  always  building  up  with  one  hand 
what  he  knocked  down  with  the  other,  recommended 
the  victor  to  bestow  the  crown  upon  Alicia,  the  daughter 
of  the  formidable  Fitzurse,  hoping  thus  to  please  his 
chief  councillor,  and  to  make  an  enemy  for  the  Disin- 
herited in  case  of  his  choosing  in  another  quarter.  But 
Fitzurse  told  him  plainly  that  a  dozen  such  Crowns  of 


38  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Love  and  Beauty  would  make  no  difference  to  his 
daughter,  and  that  it  was  the  undoubted  right  of  the 
victor  freely  to  choose  a  Liege  Lady  according  to  his 
own  mind. 

So  when  the  Disinherited  laid  his  crown  at  the  feet  of 
Rowena,  all  the  Saxons  shouted  as  at  another  victory 
over  the  Normans. 

They  cried  even  in  the  hearing  of  the  Prince :  "Long 
live  the  Saxon  princess !  Long  live  the  race  of  Alfred  ! " 

******* 

The  short  night  passed  quickly  and  busily.  Few 
slept  at  all.  Armourers  clanked  hour  after  hour  about 
their  glimmering  fires  on  the  outskirts  of  the  camp, 
altering  and  mending  the  arms  and  armour  to  be  used 
on  the  morrow.  The  royal  guards  were  changed  every 
two  hours,  as  were  also  those  about  the  camps  of  the 
knights.  For  such  gatherings  attracted  robbers  and 
bandits  from  every  quarter,  and  the  whole  neighbour- 
hood of  Ashby  was  notoriously  unsafe. 

Meanwhile  the  Disinherited  One  had  withdrawn  to 
his  tent,  after  declining  with  courtesy  the  invitation 
of  the  Prince  to  banquet  with  him,  on  the  plea  of  a 
vow  to  keep  his  face  covered  for  certain  days.  We 
find  him  under  the  hands  of  a  former  swineherd,  to 
whom  he  had  trusted  his  secret,  and  who  that  day 


THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES   OF  ASHBY      39 

had  with  some  success  represented  a  Norman  squire. 
After  having  arranged  with  the  messengers  of  the  van- 
quished knights  for  the  ransom  of  their  chargers  and 
armour  upon  easy  terms,  the  Disinherited  Knight  sent 
off  Gurth  with  the  price  of  the  armour  in  which  he 
had  fought  to  the  Jew  Isaac  of  York. 

Eighty  zecchins  was  the  price,  and  Isaac,  still  shudder- 
ing at  the  thought  of  the  gold  pieces  the  Prince  had 
reft  from  him  that  day  in  the  lists,  dropped  them  into  his 
purse  to  the  very  last  one.  But  as  Gurth  descended  the 
stairs,  a  figure  clad  in  white,  standing  in  a  doorway, 
beckoned  him  mysteriously  into  a  side  chamber. 

At  the  sight,  the  superstitious  Saxon  could  hardly 
restrain  a  cry  of  fear  and  astonishment.  But  he  was 
still  more  astonished  when  Rebecca,  the  beautiful 
daughter  of  the  Jew  Isaac,  thrust  a  bag  of  a  hundred 
gold  pieces  into  his  hand,  telling  him  that  her  father  had 
but  jested,  and  that  he  owed  more  to  his  master  than 
he  could  ever  pay.  Twenty  of  the  tale  he  was  to  keep 
for  himself.  His  master  had  previously  given  him  ten. 
This  day,  therefore,  went  far  beyond  any  day  the  swine- 
herd had  ever  known. 

"Such  another,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "and  Gurth 
will  have  enough  red  gold  to  redeem  his  bondage  and 
be  as  free  as  any  man  in  England !" 

Yet  it  was  to  be  a  night  of  adventures  for  the  herds- 


40  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

man.  It  chanced  that,  in  order  to  regain  his  master's 
tent,  he  had  to  pass  the  straggling  cottages,  and  plunge 
between  deep  banks,  on  which  the  broom  and  the  hazel 
bushes  stood  up  like  black  plumes  against  the  light  of 
the  harvest  moon. 

He  had  just  reached  the  top  of  the  copse  when  four 
men  sprang  suddenly  upon  him  out  of  the  underbrush, 
and,  though  he  struggled  valiantly,  Gurth  was  soon 
dragged  along  into  a  more  open  space,  where  two  others 
joined  them,  visored  and  equipped  with  short  Saxon 
swords  at  their  sides.  There  was  no  need  to  tell  him 
that  these  were  members  of  a  robber  band. 

"What  money  have  you?"  demanded  the  leader. 

"Thirty  zecchins  of  mine  own  to  purchase  my 
freedom!"  said  Gurth,  determined  to  save  his  master's 
wealth  if  he  could,  knowing  how  great  need  he  would 
have  of  it.  Then  came  a  further  catechism  to  which 
poor  Gurth  made  such  answers  as  he  could  find.  He 
explained  that  the  money  he  carried  (which  the  robbers 
had  soon  snatched  from  him)  was  the  ransom  of  the 
knights  who  had  that  day  been  defeated. 

"Then,"  said  the  chief,  "your  master,  the  Disin- 
herited Knight,  has  let  them  off  too  easy  —  only  two 
hundred  zecchins  for  all  the  five  horses  and  their 
equipment!" 

"And  what,"  he  continued,  "were  you  doing  so  late 


THE   SPLINTERED  LANCES   OF  ASHBY      41 

in  Ashby?  Paying  Isaac  the  Jew  for  the  horse  and 
armour  he  had  lent  to  your  master  to  fight  in?  How 
much?  Eighty  zecchins,  and  he  gave  you  a  hundred 
back !  Lying  knave  that  you  are !  A  Jew  gives  noth- 
ing back.  If  you  tell  us  such  lies  we  will  have  every 
farthing  and  break  thy  head  into  the  bargain!" 

They  began  to  believe  Gurth's  word,  however,  when 
they  found  the  embroidered  purse  of  the  Jewess  within 
the  wallet  of  the  swineherd. 

Upon  this  the  chief  of  the  band  cried  out  that  for  this 
time  they  must  let  the  servant  of  such  a  man  go. 

"This  Disinherited  is  too  like  ourselves,"  he  said; 
"dog  does  not  eat  dog,  when  there  are  foxes  and  wolves 
in  abundance!" 

"Like  ourselves !"  objected  one  of  the  robbers'  gang ; 
"I  would  like  to  hear  that  made  good !" 

"Why,  fool?"  answered  the  captain,  fiercely;  "is  he 
not  poor  and  disinherited,  just  as  we  are  ?  Does  he  not 
win  his  gear  at  the  sword's  point  like  us  ?  Has  he  not 
beaten  Front  de  Bceuf  and  Malvoisin  as  we  would  gladly 
do  if  we  could  ?  Is  he  not  the  mortal  enemy  of  Bois- 
Guilbert,  whom  we  have  such  good  reason  to  fear  ?  Shall 
we  treat  such  a  man  worse  than  this  Hebrew  Jew?  " 

Hearing  this  they  were  all  silent,  except  for  a  single 
discontented  grumble  from  a  short,  thickset  man  whom 
they  called  the  Miller. 


42  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

"Then  I  suppose  we  shall  lose  our  night,"  he  mut- 
tered ;  "even  this  insolent  peasant  must  go  scatheless !" 

"Not  if  you  can  scathe  him,  Miller!"  cried  the 
chief;  "there,  take  a  couple  of  quarter-staffs,  and  fall  to. 
He  seems  a  ready  loon  with  his  weapons.  Let  a  cudgel 
keep  his  head,  and  if  he  be  beaten  —  why,  I  think  I 
must  e'en  pay  the  sturdy  knave's  ransom  myself!" 

Therefore  in  the  cleared  space  and  in  the  full  moon- 
light, they  fell  to.  And  this  is  the  tale  of  their  fight: 
The  two  champions,  being  alike  armed  with  quarter- 
staves,  stepped  forward  into  the  centre  of  the  open  space, 
in  order  to  have  the  full  benefit  of  the  moonlight ;  the 
thieves  in  the  meantime  laughing,  and  crying  to  their 
comrade,  "Miller !  beware  thy  toll-dish."  The  Miller, 
on  the  other  hand,  holding  his  quarter-staff  by  the 
middle,  and  making  it  flourish  round  his  head  after  the 
fashion  which  the  French  call  faire  le  moulinet,  ex- 
claimed boastfully,  "Come  on,  churl,  an  thou  darest; 
thou  shalt  feel  the  strength  of  a  miller's  thumb !" 

"If  thou  be'st  a  miller,"  answered  Gurth,  undaunt- 
edly, making  his  weapon  play  around  his  head  with 
equal  dexterity,  "thou  art  doubly  a  thief,  and  I,  as 
a  true  man,  bid  thee  defiance." 

So  saying,  the  two  champions  closed  together,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  they  displayed  great  equality  in 
strength,  courage,  and  skill,  intercepting  and  returning 


THE   SPLINTERED   LANCES    OF   ASHBY      43 

the  blows  of  their  adversary  with  the  most  rapid  dex- 
terity, while,  from  the  continued  clatter  of  their  weapons, 
a  person  at  a  distance  might  have  supposed  that  there 
were  at  least  six  persons  engaged  on  each  side. 

Long  they  fought  equally,  until  the  Miller  began  to 
lose  temper  at  finding  himself  so  stoutly  opposed,  and 
at  hearing  the  laughter  of  his  companions,  who,  as  usual 
in  such  cases,  enjoyed  his  vexation.  This  was  not  a 
state  of  mind  favourable  to  the  noble  game  of  quarter- 
staff,  in  which,  as  in  ordinary  cudgel-playing,  the  utmost 
coolness  is  requisite ;  and  it  gave  Gurth,  whose  temper 
was  steady,  though  surly,  the  opportunity  of  acquiring  a 
decided  advantage,  in  availing  himself  of  which  he  dis- 
played great  mastery. 

The  Miller  pressed  furiously  forward,  dealing  blows 
with  either  end  of  his  weapon  alternately,  and  striving 
to  come  to  half-staff  distance,  while  Gurth  defended 
himself  against  the  attack,  keeping  his  hands  about  a 
yard  asunder,  and  covering  himself  by  shifting  his 
weapon  with  great  celerity,  so  as  to  protect  his  head  and 
body.  Thus  did  he  maintain  the  defensive,  making  his 
eye,  foot,  and  hand  keep  true  time,  until,  observing  his 
antagonist  to  lose  wind,  he  darted  the  staff  at  his  face 
with  his  left  hand;  and  as  the  Miller  endeavoured  to 
parry  the  thrust,  he  slid  his  right  hand  down  to  his  left, 
and  with  the  full  swing  of  the  weapon  struck  his  oppo- 


44  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

nent  on  the  left  side  of  the  head,  who  instantly  measured 
his  length  upon  the  greensward. 

"Well  and  yeomanly  done!"  shouted  the  robbers; 
"fair  play  and  Old  England  forever.  The  Saxon  hath 
saved  both  his  purse  and  his  hide,  and  the  Miller  has 
met  his  match." 

II.    BATTLE  GENERAL 


The  next  day  was  that  of  the  mSlSe,  or  fight  general. 
The  body  of  the  knights  was  divided  into  two  parts,  one 
led  by  the  victor  of  the  first  day,  the  Disinherited 
Knight,  the  other  by  Bois-Guilbert,  who  had  been  named 
second  champion. 

The  rules  of  the  melee  as  proclaimed  by  the  heralds 
were  few  and  simple.  Knights  whose  lances  were 
broken  might  continue  to  fight  with  swords.  Dis- 
mounted men  might  only  fight  with  one  another.  If 
one  combatant  forced  another  against  the  barriers,  he 
had  conquered  him. 

The  Lady  Rowena  presided  that  day  over  the  lists 
as  Queen  of  Beauty,  and  even  Prince  John  did  her 
obeisance.  The  signal  for  the  onset  being  given,  fifty 
steel-clad  knights  on  either  side  hurled  themselves  to- 
gether. The  party  of  the  Disinherited  Knight  held 
fewer  champions  than  that  of  Bois-Guilbert.  For  not 
only  did  all  the  old  challengers  adhere  to  it,  but  they 


BATTLE   GENERAL  45 

were  joined,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  Cedric,  by 
the  huge  Saxon  Athelstane  of  Coningsburgh,  who  had 
not  forgiven  the  Disinherited  One  for  choosing  Rowena 
(whom  he  looked  upon  as  his  own  property)  as  Queen 
of  Beauty.  Besides,  Rowena  herself  appeared  far 
too  much  interested  in  the  Knight  of  the  Plucked-up 
Oak  Tree.  Accordingly,  he,  Athelstane  of  Conings- 
burgh, would  punish  his  temerity  by  fighting  against 
him  in  the  metee. 

As  yet  the  knights  held  their  long  lances  upright,  their 
bright  points  glancing  in  the  sun,  and  the  streamers 
with  which  they  were  decorated  fluttering  over  the 
plumage  of  the  helmets.  The  trumpets  sounded  —  the 
spears  of  the  champions  were  at  once  lowered  and  placed 
in  the  rests  —  the  spurs  were  dashed  into  the  flanks  of 
the  horses,  and  the  two  foremost  ranks  of  either  party 
rushed  upon  each  other  in  full  gallop,  and  met  in  the 
middle  of  the  lists  with  a  shock,  the  sound  of  which  was 
heard  at  a  mile's  distance.  The  rear  rank  of  either  side 
advanced  at  a  slower  pace  to  sustain  the  defeated, 
and  follow  up  the  success  of  the  victors  of  their  party. 

The  consequences  of  the  encounter  were  not  instantly 
seen,  for  the  dust  raised  by  the  trampling  of  so  many 
steeds  darkened  the  air,  and  it  was  a  full  minute  ere  the 
anxious  spectators  could  see  the  fate  of  the  encounter. 
When  the  fight  became  visible,  half  the  knights  on  each 


46  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

side  were  dismounted,  —  some  by  the  dexterity  of  their 
adversary's  lance,  some  by  the  superior  weight  and 
strength  of  their  opponents,  which  had  borne  down  both 
horse  and  man.  Some  lay  stretched  on  earth  as  if 
never  more  to  rise ;  some  had  already  gained  their  feet, 
and  were  closing  hand  to  hand  with  those  of  their 
antagonists  who  were  in  the  same  predicament;  and 
several  on  both  sides,  who  had  received  wounds  by 
which  they  were  disabled,  were  stopping  their  blood  with 
their  scarfs,  and  endeavouring  to  extricate  themselves 
from  the  tumult.  The  mounted  knights,  whose  lances 
had  been  almost  all  broken  by  the  fury  of  the  encounter, 
were  now  closely  engaged  with  their  swords,  shouting 
their  war  cries,  and  exchanging  buffets,  as  if  honour  and 
life  depended  on  the  issue  of  the  combat. 

Meantime  the  clang  of  the  blows,  and  the  shouts  of 
the  combatants,  mixed  fearfully  with  the  sound  of  the 
trumpets,  and  drowned  the  groans  of  those  who  fell 
and  lay  rolling  defenceless  beneath  the  feet  of  the  horses. 
The  splendid  armour  of  the  combatants  was  now  defaced 
with  dust  and  blood,  and  gave  way  at  every  stroke  of  the 
sword  and  battle-axe.  The  gay  plumage,  shorn  from 
the  crests,  drifted  upon  the  breeze  like  snowflakes. 
All  that  was  beautiful  and  graceful  in  the  martial  array 
disappeared,  and  what  was  now  visible  was  only  calcu- 
lated to  awake  terror  or  compassion. 


BATTLE   GENERAL  47 

The  leaders  of  each  band,  mingling  in  the  thick  of  the 
fight,  encouraged  their  companions  both  by  voice  and 
example.  Both  displayed  great  feats  of  gallantry,  nor 
did  either  Bois-Guilbert  or  the  Disinherited  Knight 
find  in  the  ranks  opposed  to  them  a  champion  who  could 
be  termed  their  unquestioned  match.  They  repeatedly 
endeavoured  to  single  out  each  other,  aware  that  the 
fall  of  either  leader  might  be  considered  as  decisive  of 
victory. 

But  when  the  field  became  thin,  the  Templar  and  the 
Disinherited  Knight  at  length  encountered  hand  to 
hand,  with  all  the  fury  that  mortal  animosity,  joined  to 
rivalry  of  honour,  could  inspire.  Such  was  the  address 
of  each  in  parrying  and  striking,  that  the  spectators 
broke  forth  into  a  unanimous  and  involuntary  shout 
expressive  of  their  delight  and  admiration. 

But  at  this  moment  the  party  of  the  Disinherited 
Knight  had  the  worst;  the  gigantic  arm  of  Front  de 
Bceuf  on  the  one  flank,  and  the  ponderous  strength  of 
Athelstane  on  the  other,  bearing  down  and  dispersing 
those  exposed  to  them.  Finding  themselves  freed  from 
their  immediate  antagonists,  it  seems  to  have  occurred 
to  both  these  knights  at  the  same  instant,  that  they 
would  render  the  most  decisive  advantage  to  their  party 
by  aiding  the  Templar  in  his  contest  with  his  rival. 
Turning  their  horses,  therefore,  at  the  same  moment, 


48  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

the  Norman  spurred  against  the  Disinherited  Knight  on 
the  one  side,  while  the  Saxon  charged  home  on  the  other. 
It  was  utterly  impossible  that  the  object  of  this  unequal 
and  unexpected  assault  could  have  sustained  it,  had  he 
not  been  warned  by  a  general  cry  from  the  spectators, 
who  could  not  but  take  interest  in  one  exposed  to  such 
disadvantages. 

"  Beware  !  Beware,  Sir  Disinherited  !"  was  shouted  so 
universally,  that  the  knight  became  aware  of  his 
danger,  and,  striking  a  full  blow  at  the  Templar,  he 
reined  back  his  steed  in  the  same  moment,  so  as  to 
escape  the  charge  of  Athelstane  and  Front  de  Bceuf. 
These  knights,  therefore,  their  aim  being  thus  eluded, 
rushed  from  opposite  sides  betwixt  the  object  of  their 
attack  and  the  Templar,  almost  running  their  horses 
against  each  other  ere  they  could  stop  their  career. 
Recovering  their  steeds,  however,  and  wheeling  them 
round,  the  whole  three  pursued  their  united  purpose  of 
bearing  to  the  earth  the  Disinherited  Knight. 

Nothing  now  could  have  saved  him  except  the  re- 
markable strength  and  activity  of  the  noble  horse  which 
he  had  won  on  the  preceding  day. 

This  stood  him  in  the  more  stead,  as  the  horse  of 
Bois-Guilbert  was  wounded,  and  those  of  Front  de 
Boeuf  and  Athelstane  were  both  tired  with  the  weight 
of  their  gigantic  masters,  clad  in  complete  armour,  and 


BATTLE   GENERAL  49 

with  the  preceding  exertions  of  the  day.  The  masterly 
horsemanship  of  the  Disinherited  Knight,  and  the  activ- 
ity of  the  noble  animal  which  he  mounted,  enabled  him 
for  a  few  moments  longer  to  keep  at  sword's  point  his 
three  antagonists,  turning  and  wheeling  with  the  agility 
of  a  hawk  upon  the  wing,  keeping  his  enemies  as  far 
separate  as  he  could,  and  rushing  now  against  one, 
now  against  the  other,  dealing  sweeping  blows  with  his 
sword,  without  waiting  to  receive  those  which  were 
aimed  at  him  in  return. 

But  although  the  lists  rang  with  the  applauses  of  his 
dexterity,  it  was  evident  that  he  must  at  last  be  over- 
powered ;  and  the  nobles  around  Prince  John  implored 
him  with  one  voice  to  throw  down  his  warder,  and  to 
save  so  brave  a  knight  from  the  disgrace  of  being  over- 
come by  odds. 

"Not  I,  by  the  light  of  Heaven!"  answered  Prince 
John ;  "this  same  springal,  who  conceals  his  name,  and 
despises  our  proffered  hospitality,  has  already  gained  one 
prize,  and  may  now  afford  to  let  others  have  their  turn." 
As  he  spoke  thus,  an  unexpected  incident  changed  the 
fortune  of  the  day. 

There  was  among  the  ranks  of  the  Disinherited 
Knight  a  champion  in  black  armour,  mounted  on  a  black 
horse,  large  in  size,  tall,  and  to  all  appearance  powerful 
and  strong,  like  the  rider  by  whom  he  was  mounted. 


50  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

This  knight,  who  bore  on  his  shield  no  device  of  any 
kind,  had  hitherto  evinced  very  little  interest  in  the 
event  of  the  fight,  beating  off  with  seeming  ease  those 
combatants  who  attacked  him,  but  neither  pursuing  his 
advantage,  nor  himself  assailing  any  one.  In  short,  he 
had  hitherto  acted  the  part  rather  of  a  spectator  than 
of  a  party  in  the  tournament,  a  circumstance  which  pro- 
cured him  among  the  spectators  the  name  of  Le  Noir 
Faineant,  or  the  Black  Sluggard. 

At  once  this  knight  seemed  to  throw  aside  his  apathy 
when  he  discovered  the  leader  of  his  party  so  hard  be- 
stead ;  for,  setting  spurs  to  his  horse,  which  was  quite 
fresh,  he  came  to  his  assistance  like  a  thunderbolt,  ex- 
claiming in  a  voice  like  a  trumpet-call,  "  Desdichado,  to 
the  rescue!"  It  was  high  time;  for,  while  the  Disin- 
herited Knight  was  pressing  upon  the  Templar,  Front 
de  Boeuf  had  got  nigh  to  him  with  his  uplifted  sword. 
But  ere  the  blow  could  descend,  the  Sable  Knight  dealt 
him  a  stroke  on  the  head,  which,  glancing  from  the 
polished  helmet,  lighted  with  violence  scarcely  abated 
on  the  steed,  and  Front  de  Bceuf  rolled  on  the  ground, 
both  horse  and  man  equally  stunned  by  the  fury  of  the 
blow.  Le  Noir  Faineant  then  turned  his  horse  upon 
Athelstane  of  Coningsburgh ;  and,  his  own  sword  having 
been  broken  in  his  encounter  with  Front  de  Boeuf,  he 
wrenched  from  the  hand  of  the  bulky  Saxon  the  battle- 


BATTLE   GENERAL  51 

axe  which  he  wielded,  and,  like  one  familiar  with  the 
use  of  the  weapon,  bestowed  such  a  blow  upon  his  crest, 
that  Athelstane  also  lay  senseless  on  the  field.  Having 
achieved  this  noble  feat,  for  which  he  was  the  more 
highly  applauded  that  it  was  totally  unexpected  from 
him,  the  knight  seemed  to  resume  the  sluggishness  of 
his  character,  returning  calmly  to  the  northern  extremity 
of  the  lists,  leaving  his  leader  to  cope  as  he  best  could 
with  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert.  This  was  no  longer 
matter  of  so  much  difficulty  as  formerly.  The  Tem- 
plar's horse  had  bled  much,  and  gave  way  under  the 
shock  of  the  Disinherited  Knight's  charge.  Brian  de 
Bois-Guilbert  rolled  on  the  field,  encumbered  with  the 
stirrup,  from  which  he  was  unable  to  draw  his  foot. 
His  antagonist  sprang  from  horseback,  waved  his  fatal 
sword  over  the  head  of  his  adversary,  and  commanded 
him  to  yield  himself;  when  Prince  John,  more  moved 
by  the  Templar's  dangerous  situation  than  he  had  been 
by  that  of  his  rival,  saved  him  the  mortification  of 
confessing  himself  vanquished,  by  casting  down  his 
warder  and  putting  an  end  to  the  conflict. 

Thus  ended  the  memorable  field  of  Ashby-de-la- 
Zouche,  one  of  the  most  gallantly  contested  tourna- 
ments of  that  age.  For  although  only  four  knights, 
including  one  who  was  smothered  by  the  heat  of  his 
armour,  had  died  upon  the  field,  yet  upwards  of  thirty 


52  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

were  desperately  wounded,  four  or  five  of  whom  never 
recovered.  Several  more  were  disabled  for  life;  and 
those  who  escaped  best  carried  the  marks  of  the  conflict 
to  the  grave  with  them.  Hence  it  is  always  mentioned 
in  the  old  records  as  the  Gentle  and  Joyous  Passage  of 
Arms  at  Ashby. 

But  when  the  double  victor,  at  last  called  upon  to 
unhelm  himself  before  the  Queen  of  Love  and  Beauty, 
revealed  at  last  that  he  was  no  other  than  the  crusading 
knight  of  Ivanhoe,  the  disinherited  son  of  Cedric,  not 
only  Rowena  but  all  the  Saxons  at  the  tournament  were 
thrilled  with  pride.  But  of  this  the  brave  Ivanhoe  was 
unconscious.  He  had  hardly  bent  to  receive  the  wreath 
of  chivalry,  when  his  head  fell  forward,  and  he  slipped, 
fainting  and  motionless,  at  the  feet  of  the  Lady  Rowena, 
a  lance-head  sunk  deep  in  his  side. 

******  * 

END  OF  SECOND  TALE  FROM  " IVANHOE" 


LINK   NUMBER   TWO 

I  INCREASE  MY  AUDIENCE 

"I  say,"  said  Hugh  John,  "we  must  sneak  —  I  mean, 
ask  father  for  the  loan  of  the  Ivanhoe  book,  and  read 
it  to  the  Smoutchy  boys  down  in  Edam.  Then  we  will 
have  a  proper  tournament  all  of  our  own !" 


I   INCREASE   MY  AUDIENCE  53 

"Bad,  horrid  boys!"  said  Sweetheart;  "I  shouldn't 
ever  speak  to  them  again.  Why,  they  hung  you  up  by 
the  thumbs  and  tortured  you  and  put  you  in  dungeons !" 

This  referred  to  ancient  history,  and  as  for  the  tale 
thereof  —  is  it  not  written  in  the  book  of  the  chronicles 
of  "Sir  Toady  Lion,"  that  most  surprising  knight? 
But  the  boys  had,  for  the  time  being,  an  entente  cordiale 
with  the  boys  of  Edam,  and  especially  with  the  chief  of 
all,  a  certain  Nipper  Donnan,  now  frequently  to  be 
seen  at  the  back  door  of  Windy  Standard,  the  residence 
of  the  boys  and  their  sisters,  with  a  butcher's  basket 
over  his  arm,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  whistling 
shrilly  the  latest  music-hall  ditty,  to  show  how  much 
he  cared  for  the  cook. 

The  present  "peace"  was  one  of  mutual  respect 
and  accommodation.  It  rested  on  sundry  scufflings 
and  one  great  pitched  battle,  on  many  wounds  and 
bruises  given  and  taken  (and  nothing  said  about  them), 
on  several  poaching  expeditions,  and  an  alliance,  offen- 
sive and  defensive,  against  all  gamekeepers  and  the 
entire  body  of  the  rural  police.  Homing  pigeons  also 
had  to  do  with  it,  and  ratting  "tarriers"  were  noways 
foreign  to  the  matter. 

So  the  next  day  Hugh  John  and  Sir  Toady  waited 
for  Nipper  Donnan,  chief  "Smoutchy"  of  Edam,  pres- 
ently following  the  profession  of  his  father,  Butcher 


54  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Donnan,  in  the  subordinate  capacity  of  errand-boy. 
The  immediate  business  of  this  meeting  was  to  exchange 
against  cash  down  in  boys'  currency,  various  pieces  of 
meat  and  bone  (called  "snackets"  and  of  no  commercial 
value)  for  the  "tarriers"  aforesaid.  But  as  they 
chaffered  in  terms  of  marbles  and  fish-hooks,  the  boys 
conversed  also  on  subjects  of  common  interest. 

"Say,"  began  Nipper  Donnan,  "one  o'  them  'alleys' 
wot  you  gave  me  las'  week  was  no  better  than  a  ' clay'  — 
it  split  in  two  the  first  whack!" 

"Then  you  must  have  whacked  it  with  a  sledge- 
hammer!" retorted  Sir  Toady  Lion,  promptly,  the 
short  hair  behind  his  ears  bristling  up  like  a  hackle. 

"No,  I  didn't!"  said  Nipper  Donnan;  "I  only 
plunked  it,  and  it  broke  the  first  go!" 

(Which  is  to  say  that  Nipper  threw  it  with  force  at  a 
row  of  marbles  arranged  in  front  of  a  wall,  from  the 
distance  of  several  yards.  In  this  game  the  striker  gets 
all  he  can  displace.) 

"Well,"  said  Hugh  John,  who  is  not  fitted  for  a  com- 
mercial life,  "  if  you  say  that  on  honour,  here's  another ! " 

First  Nipper  held  out  his  hand,  then  more  slowly  he 
withdrew  it  —  and  blushed. 

"A  'piggie'  will  do,"  he  said;  "I  did  hit  the  'alley' 
against  the  wall  the  time  it  burst  in  two !" 

This  shows  that  honour  begets  honour.    If  any  one 


I   INCREASE   MY   AUDIENCE  55 

had  tried  to  "do"  Nipper  Donnan,  or  if  he  had  even 
suspected  as  much,  he  would  (to  use  his  own  strong 
phrase)  have  "lied  like  a  horse-dealer."  But  these 
Windy  Standard  boys  were  certainly  disarming. 

They  actually  believed  you,  if  you  said  it  was  so. 

Consequently  Nipper  Donnan  took  their  word  with 
never  a  murmur,  sometimes  even  to  his  own  disadvan- 
tage. And  he  hardly  ever  "did"  them  or  "had  them" 
without  explaining  afterwards,  and  never  without  warn- 
ing them  against  dealing  with  Jo  Cormick  and  other 
"real  bad  boys,"  who  had  none  of  his  (Nipper  Don- 
nan's)  honourable  scruples. 

Nipper  went  on  to  relate  the  details  of  a  ratting  expe- 
dition down  at  the  Black  Sheds,  and  how  his  dog  "  Spot," 
a  short-bodied,  hang-lipped,  stub-tailed  brute  had, 
literally,  carried  all  before  him.  Spot  was  waiting  at 
the  moment  at  the  end  of  the  avenue  for  his  master. 
Indeed  he  was  passing  the  time  by  fighting  with  the 
parson's  collie,  so  that  the  whole  street  and  neighbour- 
hood were  filled  with  the  alarms  and  excursions  of 
canine  war. 

Hugh  John  interrupted  Spot's  master.  He  had  a 
question  to  ask. 

"Ever  hear  of  a  fellow  called  Ivanhoe?"  he  de- 
manded, as  he  stowed  the  "snackets"  away  in  a  piece  of 
stained  brown  paper  and  committed  the  package  to  the 


56  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

bottom  of  his  jacket  pocket  well  out  of  the  reach  of  pry- 
ing eyes. 

"Ivan  How?"  said  Nipper,  in  the  far-away,  tell-you- 
to-morrow  tone  of  one  who  searches  deep  in  an  evasive 
memory.  "No-o-o-o!  But  —  there's  John  How,  our 
shopman.  He  threw  a  two-pound  weight  at  your  big 
dog  Boom-pluff,  and  got  him  in  the  ribs.  Ay,  and  garred 
him  drop  the  bone  he  had  stolen;  and  father  says 
that  he  will  have  it  put  down  in  next  week's  account !" 

At  this  the  boys  laughed.  In  which  they  had  reason. 
For  they  knew  that  such  an  item  could  not  possibly  pass 
the  shrewd  eyes  of  Janet  Sheepshanks. 

"Your  father  may  put  a  whole  live  ox  in  the  'book,'" 
retorted  Sir  Toady,  "and  swear  that  our  Boomy  swal- 
lowed him  tail  first.  But  catch  Janet  paying  it!" 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Nipper,  "I  dare  say  father  will 
forget  all  about  it."  This  was  not  at  all  unlikely,  see- 
ing that  the  youth  had  made  up  the  whole  incident  from 
beginning  to  end. 

"Well,  anyway,"  he  said,  taking  his  stand  on  that 
part  of  the  story  which  would  bear  examination,  "our 
salesman  is  John  How  —  rum  name !  Ivan  How  is 
rummer,  though!" 

"Humph!"  said  Hugh  John,  scornfully,  "you 
wouldn't  say  that  if  you  knew  about  him.  He's  a 
'oner' !" 


I  INCREASE   MY  AUDIENCE  57 

"A  regular  buster!"  added  Sir  Toady  Lion. 

"Could  fight,  eh?"  Nipper's  eyes  twinkled,  and  he 
turned  his  head  to  the  side  with  the  questioning,  com- 
bative, bull-pup  look  with  which  he  always  measured 
a  possible  opponent. 

"Fight?"  sang  out  Sir  Toady;  "why,  he  fought  five 
one  day,  all  done  up  in  armour  like  a  battleship  —  yes, 
and  whacked  them  till  they  cried!" 

"Armour — "  said  Nipper,  looking  puzzled;  "that's 
not  according  to  Queensberry  rules.  Why  did  the  com- 
mittee allow  it?  What,  didn't  Ivan  How's  backers 
see  that  t'other  fellows  peeled  decent?  If  my  father 
had  been  there,  I  bet  the  silly  jossers  would  have  come 
out  of  them  iron  shirts  quicker'n  wink!  Ay,  man, 
he'd  have  had  them  out  by  the  hair  o'  the  head  !" 

Hugh  John  explained  at  length.  Nipper  listened 
with  his  brows  drawn  down  so  that  you  could  only  see 
the  little  glistening  sparks  of  two  sloe-black  pupils, 
while  all  the  time  his  under  jaw  seemed  to  get  bigger, 
and  push  out  as  if  some  one  were  moulding  it  under- 
neath with  plasticene  —  and  plenty  of  it,  too. 

"So  a  man  Scott  wrote  all  that,  did  he?"  Nipper 
Donnan  inquired. 

"Yes,"  said  Hugh  John,  anxious  to  run  sea  and  land 
to  make  one  proselyte,  "and  father  says  that  he's  the 
greatest  historv  writer  that  ever  was!" 


58  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"My  father  backs  the  man  that  writes  up  the  'scraps' 
in  the  Sporting  Pink!"  said  Nipper  Donnan;  "and  I 
bet  he  knows  as  well  as  yours.  You  should  see  my 
father  turn  to  page  three  to  get  'the  latest' !  Wonder- 
ful set  on  literature  is  father !  And  never  was  but  three 
days  at  school,  including  the  day  they  had  to  take  the 
master  to  the  Infirmary!" 

"If  you  like,  I'll  nab  the  book  and  read  bits  to  you, 
and  then  we  can  do  the  things  that's  in  it  —  down  in  our 
meadow,  or  somewhere!" 

Hugh  John  was  very  earnest  now. 

"What  kind  of  things?"  said  Nipper,  shifting  his 
basket  from  one  arm  to  the  other,  preparatory  to 
emerging  from  the  shrubbery  at  the  end  of  the  Hague 
conference.  He  heard  the  clock  strike  ten  and  knew 
that  his  parent  would  be  looking  for  him.  He  was  dead 
set  on  keeping  the  Fifth  Commandment,  which  in  his 
case  was  indeed  a  commandment  with  promise. 

"  Oh,  a  tournament ! "  said  Toady  Lion,  unable  longer 
to  keep  his  oar  out  of  the  discussion. 

" Quoiting ? "  demanded  Nipper,  with  a  sniff.  "That's 
no  class.  'Sides,  Ned  Kerr  from  Rerwick  would  scoop 
your  old  Ivan  every  time !" 

"Fighting  —  not  quoiting,"  said  Hugh  John,  giving 
Toady  Lion  "such  a  look" ;  "  just  proper !  You  can  bring 
some  fellows  if  you  like  —  and  me  and  Toady  will  slip 


I   INCREASE   MY  AUDIENCE  59 

off  with  the  book  up  our  waistcoats.  It's  got  A  i 
pictures.  An'  I'll  read  it." 

"Father  u'd  like  that  too,"  said  Nipper,  when  Hugh 
John  had  finished;  "there's  never  enough  'scraps'  in 
the  'Pinky'  to  keep  him  going,  and  he  takes  no  stock  in 
glove  contests  —  unless,  that  is,  he  sees  the  gloves !" 

And  so  it  was  arranged. 

For  the  purpose  of  informing  those  interested  as  to 
the  most  suitable  portions  to  read,  various  leading  ques- 
tions were  put  to  me  that  night.  But  I  did  not  realize 
what  a  stir  my  relation  of  the  adventures  of  Sir  Walter's 
Disinherited  Knight  was  making  in  the  community  till 
I  came  across  Mr.  Butcher  Donnan  "Senior,"  with 
whom  I  have  numerous  business  relations  —  not  only 
those  of  paying  my  monthly  bill,  but  also  those  of 
arranging  the  letting  of  a  grazing  park  upon  which  I 
have  some  feudal  rights  not  very  clearly  defined. 

Now  Butcher  Donnan  is  a  worthy  man  who  went 
early  to  America,  abode  there  prosperously  for  a  time, 
and  returned  suddenly  (some  say),  owing  to  an  affair 
in  which  a  "shelalah"  and  a  man's  head  were  too  in- 
timately mixed  up  together.  He  is  our  chief  sporting 
authority  in  Edam,  and  the  church  Catholic  and  the 
Queensberry  rules  occupy  the  two  sides  of  his  braio. 
where  their  authority  is  about  equal. 


60  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  after  strict  business 
was  finished,  "will  that  be  aaall  nonsense  that  your 
boys  were  gettin'  off  to  mine  the  other  night?  I'm 
expectin'  not,  for  it  was  out  of  a  printed  book,  Nipper 
said!" 

Evidently  Faith  is  not  dead  in  Israel. 

"Books  are  all  right,"  continued  Butcher  Donnan ; 
"though  I  don't  read  them  much  myself  —  only  the 
Sporting  Pink  —  there's  a  paper  for  you,  now !" 

I  expressed  my  agreement.  I  had  the  testimony  of 
my  eyes  upon  many  bookstalls  that  it  was  a  paper. 
But  Butcher  Donnan  had  something  more  to  ask. 

"The  book  that  your  kids  —  children,  I  mean  — 
brought  down  under  their  waistcoats  —  is  it  expen- 
sive?" 

Being  the  first  edition,  in  three  volumes  in  uncut  state, 
it  was.  But  I  did  not  say  so.  Donnan,  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves and  a  steel  by  his  side,  did  not  look  like  a  man 
you  could  talk  first  editions  to.  So  instead  I  let  him 
develop  his  wishes. 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  I  said,  smiling,  to  him. 

"Why,  sir,  I  asked  because  I  was  took  by  the  fight- 
ing —  though  getting  up  on  horseback  only  for  to  try 
to  knock  each  other  off  again  ain't  no  sort  o'  way  o' 
fighting  —  to  my  mind,  that  is.  And  all  them  iron 
plates  —  no,  it's  not  my  way.  But  I  will  not  deny  it 


I  INCREASE   MY  AUDIENCE  61 

makes  good  readin'  —  as  good  as  I  want.  Better  no 
man  can  ask.  But  they  stopped  off,  your  boys,  just  at 
a  place  —  " 

"They  had  to  hurry  back  to  supper,  I  suspect !"  said 
I.  "I  noticed  they  came  in  rather  late  and  that  their 
hair  was  combed  with  their  fingers !" 

"Just  so,"  said  Butcher  Donnan ;  "but  now  would  you 
mind  tellin'  me  who  was  that  there  fellow  wot  shot  so 
well  with  a  bow  an'  arrow  —  him  that  Prince  John 
threatened  he  would  ham-string  and  drum  out  o'  the 
regimental  camp  if  he  didn't  beat  all  the  other  chaps  at 
their  own  target  too?  Eh,  he  was  a  tough  lot,  that 
Prince  John.  If  me  or  Billy  Waite  could  have  got  a 
matter  of  three  rounds  at  him  with  his  steel  shirt  off  — 
u-r-r-r-r !" 

And  Butcher  Donnan's  growl  indicated  very  clearly 
that  if  the  three  rounds  spoken  of  had  indeed  taken 
place,  in  all  probability  Magna  Charta  would  never 
have  been  signed. 

Butcher  Donnan's  face  was  a  study  in  florid  colours. 
I  managed,  however,  to  make  out  what  he  was  driving 
at.  Or  at  least  thought  I  did. 

"I  will  lend  you  the  book  with  pleasure,"  I  said ;  "or 
rather,  if  you  will  accept  a  copy,  I  will  send  you  another 
one.  They  sell  them  at  the  station  for  sixpence,  so  you 
need  not  think  you  are  in  my  debt!" 


62  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"Oh,  no,  thank  ye,"  said  Butcher  Donnan,  "I  ain't 
no  scollard.  But  to  tell  the  truth  I  was  thinkin'  that  — 
it's  the  slack  time  of  the  day  with  me  when  you  are 
tellin'  them  yarns  to  the  kids  —  to  the  young  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  I  mean.  And  if  I  might  make  so  bold  as 
to  step  over  — " 

"Certainly  —  certainly !"  I  cried  eagerly,  but  not  too 
eagerly. 

"An'  that  young  ruffian  o'  mine,  Nipper,  I  dare  say 
he  can  get  off  for  an  hour.  He's  just  jumpin'  his  toes 
out  of  his  boots  to  come  — " 

"Oh,  bring  him  —  bring  him!"  I  agreed — heartily, 
this  time. 

"Thank  ye,  sir,"  said  Butcher  Donnan,  gratefully, 
"and  if  he  misbehaves  I'll  —  u-r-r-r-r-r ! " 

And  with  a  jerky  attempt  at  a  salute  he  took  himself 
off  down  the  avenue. 

It  was  in  this  way  that  the  increase  of  my  audience 
began. 

THE   THIRD   TALE   FROM   "IVANHOE" 

IT  was  a  sharp,  clean-aired  night.  The  north  wind, 
having  driven  a  thunder-storm  boisterously  away,  now 
turned  to  bite  us.  It  was  impossible  to  continue  the 
tales  out-of-doors,  so  I  made  up  a  fire  of  logs  in  the  big 


THE   THIRD   TALE   FROM   "  IVANHOE "     63 

library,  which  stands  all  by  itself  on  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  and  there  awaited  my  audience. 

The  usual  home  four  arrived  tumultuously  by  way  of 
the  plantation,  through  which  it  was  forbidden  to  pass 
after  rain.  I  could  hear  them  scuffing  outside  and 
inquiring  of  each  other  "if  it  showed  behind" — IT 
being  the  wetting  of  the  raindrops  from  the  leaves  upon 
their  garments. 

"Go  on!"  said  the  laggards  to  Maid  Margaret,  as 
they  entered  tumultuously  and  flung  themselves  down 
with  the  familiarity  of  so  many  favourite  dogs  on  carpet 
and  hearthrug,  according  to  their  liking. 

"Hold  on!"  I  replied;  " there  are  more  coming!" 

For  I  had  heard  a  cough  without,  a  moment  before. 
And  now,  without  sound  or  fall  of  footsteps,  Butcher 
Donnan,  sleek  and  prosperous,  appeared  holding  his 
son  Nipper  by  the  collar,  as  if  he  feared  that  hope  of 
his  house  might  run  away  at  the  last  moment.  Which 
indeed  was  a  thing  by  no  means  unlikely.  For  Nipper 
had  all  the  furtive,  surly  fear  of  a  wild  animal  brought 
into  unfamiliar  surroundings.  The  walls  of  books  in 
rows  and  interminable  rows  —  the  thought  of  being 
left  alone  with  all  these  —  perhaps  to  read  —  rode  the 
boy's  mind  like  a  nightmare. 

So  his  father,  perhaps  half  conscious  of  a  similar 
feeling,  kept  a  prudent  hand  on  his  collar.  It  was 


64  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

evident  that  Butcher  Donnan  regarded  what  I  was  about 
to  tell  him  as  an  important  lesson  in  history,  by  which 
Nipper  would  be  well  to  profit.    It  was  also  clear  that 
I  must  be  careful. 
Luckily  it  was  of  Archer  Locksley  that  I  had  to  speak. 

THE  TALE  OF  THE  PEELED  WILLOW  WAND 

Prince  John  had  taken  a  pick  at  Locksley,  the  yeo- 
man who  had  applauded  when  Cedric  the  Saxon  made 
his  brave  stroke  at  De  Bracy's  lance-head.  He  was 
one  of  the  people  who  always  manage  to  forget  their 
promises,  whether  to  pay  a  bill  or  to  do  a  good  act,  but 
who  will  get  up  in  the  small  hours  as  often  as  there  is  a 
neighbour  to  be  harmed  or  a  fancied  slight  to  be  avenged. 

"See  here,  sirrah,"  he  said,  when  he  had  found  the 
yeoman  at  the  same  spot  as  on  the  previous  day,  "you 
are  to  shoot  against  the  best  of  the  royal  archers.  If 
you  beat  them,  I  will  put  twenty  gold  nobles  into  your 
purse  along  with  the  prize.  But  if,  after  all  your  boast- 
ing, you  fail,  I  will  have  you  stript  of  your  Lincoln  green, 
your  bow  and  arrows  broken,  and  you  yourself  scourged 
from  the  lists  as  a  wordy  braggart !" 

("That  was  noways  fair  —  prince  or  no  prince!" 
exclaimed  Butcher  Donnan,  clapping  his  great  hand 
on  his  thigh.) 

"So   Locksley   himself   said,"    I   continued,    while 


THE   TALE   CONTINUES  65 

Nipper,  fresh  from  the  discipline  of  the  Board  School, 
tried  to  make  his  father  understand  that  it  was  not  the 
correct  thing  to  interrupt  the  lecturer.  The  Butcher 
was  quieter  after  this,  but  ever  and  anon  he  emitted 
muffled  and  explosive  sounds,  snorts,  and  defiances, 
applause  and  encouragement,  evidently  designed  for 
the  characters  of  the  tale,  who  were  all  quite  real  to  him. 
******* 

THE  TALE  CONTINUES 

So  Locksley  took  the  Prince  at  his  word.  He  would, 
he  said,  shoot  at  any  mark  the  winning  archer  liked  to 
set  up,  provided  that  the  aforesaid  champion,  whom  he 
was  to  defeat  under  penalty  of  disgrace,  would  in  his 
turn  shoot  at  the  "woodsman's"  mark  which  he, 
Locksley,  would  choose. 

Even  the  Prince  could  not  deny  the  fairness  of  this. 

A  large  target  was  brought  into  the  lists,  with  a  white 
centre.  Each  archer  was  to  shoot  three  arrows,  and 
the  best  was  to  shoot  against  Locksley.  Only  eight 
abode  to  try  their  luck  after  seeing  their  opponents,  and 
remembering  the  certainty  of  the  Prince's  certain  anger 
if  they  did  not  acquit  themselves  well. 

******* 

At  this  point  I  glanced  cautiously  at  the  big-print 
Ivanhoe  open  on  the  table  before  me.  Though  all 


66  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

very  well  for  children,  I  was  resolved  that  Butcher 
Donnan  should  take  his  "Locksley"  as  he  took  his 
liquor,  without  water.  I  watched  his  face  as  I  began 
to  read.  It  never  altered,  intent  and  concentrated  in 
its  severity.  I  am  not  even  sure  that  he  observed  the 
change  as,  like  a  wise  man,  I  consulted  my  documents. 


One  by  one  the  archers,  stepping  forward,  delivered 
their  shafts  yeomanlike  and  bravely.  Of  twenty-four 
arrows,  shot  in  succession,  ten  were  fixed  in  the  target, 
and  the  others  ranged  so  near  it,  that,  considering  the 
distance  of  the  mark,  it  was  accounted  good  archery. 
Of  the  ten  shafts  which  hit  the  target,  two  within  the 
inner  ring  were  shot  by  Hubert,  a  forester  in  the  service 
of  Malvoisin,  who  was  accordingly  pronounced  vic- 
torious. 

"Since  it  be  no  better,"  said  Locksley,  "I  am  content 
to  try  my  fortune ;  on  condition  that  when  I  have  shot 
two  shafts  at  yonder  mark  of  Hubert's,  he  shall  be  bound 
to  shoot  one  at  that  which  I  shall  propose." 

"That  is  but  fair,"  answered  Prince  John,  "and  it 
shall  not  be  refused  thee.  If  thou  dost  beat  this  brag- 
gart, Hubert,  I  will  fill  the  bugle  with  silver  pennies  for 
thee." 

"A  man  can  do  but  his  best,"  answered  Hubert, 


THE   TALE    CONTINUES  67 

"but  my  grandsire  drew  a  good  long-bow  at  Hastings, 
and  I  trust  not  to  dishonour  his  memory." 

The  former  target  was  now  removed,  and  a  fresh  one 
of  the  same  size  placed  in  its  room.  Hubert,  who,  as 
victor  in  the  first  trial  of  skill,  had  the  right  to  shoot 
first,  took  his  aim  with  great  deliberation,  long  measur- 
ing the  distance  with  his  eye,  while  he  held  in  his  hand 
his  bended  bow,  with  the  arrow  placed  on  the  string. 
At  length  he  made  a  step  forward,  and,  raising  the  bow 
at  the  full  stretch  of  his  left  arm,  till  the  centre  or  grasp- 
ing-place was  nigh  level  with  his  face,  he  drew  the 
bow-string  to  his  ear.  The  arrow  whistled  through  the 
air,  and  lighted  within  the  inner  ring  of  the  target,  but 
not  exactly  in  the  centre. 

"You  have  not  allowed  for  the  wind,  Hubert,"  said 
his  antagonist,  bending  his  bow,  "or  that  had  been  a 
better  shot." 

So  saying,  and  without  showing  the  least  anxiety  to 
pause  upon  his  aim,  Locksley  stepped  to  the  appointed 
station,  and  shot  his  arrow  as  carelessly  in  appearance 
as  if  he  had  not  even  looked  at  the  mark.  He  was 
speaking  almost  at  the  instant  that  the  shaft  left  the 
bow-string,  yet  it  alighted  in  the  target  two  inches 
nearer  to  the  white  spot  which  marked  the  centre  than 
that  of  Hubert. 

"By  the  light  of  heaven!"  said  Prince  John  to  Hu- 


68  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

bert,  "an  thou  suffer  that  runagate  knave  to  overcome 
thee,  thou  art  worthy  of  the  gallows!" 

Hubert  had  but  one  set  speech  for  all  occasions.  "An 
your  Highness  were  to  hang  me,"  he  said,  "a  man  can 
but  do  his  best.  Nevertheless,  my  grandsire  drew  a 
good  bow — " 

"The  foul  fiend  on  thy  grandsire  and  all  his  genera- 
tion !"  interrupted  John;  "shoot,  knave,  and  shoot  thy 
best,  or  it  shall  be  worse  for  thee !" 

Thus  exhorted,  Hubert  resumed  his  place,  and,  not 
neglecting  the  caution  which  he  had  received  from  his 
adversary,  he  made  the  necessary  allowance  for  a  very 
light  air  of  wind,  which  had  just  arisen,  and  shot  so 
successfully  that  his  arrow  alighted  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  target. 

"A  Hubert !  a  Hubert !"  shouted  the  populace,  more 
interested  in  a  known  person  than  in  a  stranger.  "In 
the  clout !  in  the  clout !  a  Hubert  forever !" 

"Thou  canst  not  mend  that  shot,  Locksley,"  said  the 
Prince,  with  an  insulting  smile. 

"I  will  notch  his  shaft  for  him,  however,"  replied 
Locksley. 

And  his  arrow,  let  fly  with  a  little  more  precaution 
than  before,  lighted  right  upon  that  of  his  competi- 
tor, which  it  split  to  shivers.  The  people  who  stood 
around  were  so  astonished  at  his  wonderful  dexterity 


THE   TALE   CONTINUES  69 

that  they  could  not  even  give  vent  to  their  surprise  in 
their  usual  clamour.  "This  must  be  the  devil,  and 
no  man  of  flesh  and  blood,"  whispered  the  yeomen  to 
each  other;  "such  archery  was  never  seen  since  a  bow 
was  first  bent  in  Britain." 

"And  now,"  said  Locksley,  "I  will  crave  your  Grace's 
permission  to  plant  such  a  mark  as  is  used  in  the  North 
Country;  and  welcome  every  brave  yeoman  who  shall 
try  a  shot  at  it  to  win  a  smile  from  the  bonnie  lass  he 
loves  best." 

He  then  turned  to  leave  the  lists.  "Let  your  guards 
attend  me,"  he  said,  "if  you  please  • —  I  go  but  to  cut  a 
rod  from  the  next  willow  bush." 

Prince  John  made  a  signal  that  some  attendants 
should  follow  him  in  case  of  his  escape ;  but  the  cry  of 
"Shame!  shame!"  which  burst  from  the  multitude, 
induced  him  to  alter  his  ungenerous  purpose. 

Locksley  returned  almost  instantly  with  a  willow 
wand  about  six  feet  in  length,  perfectly  straight,  and 
rather  thicker  than  a  man's  thumb.  He  began  to  peel 
this  with  great  composure,  observing  at  the  same  time, 
that  to  ask  a  good  woodsman  to  shoot  at  a  target  so 
broad  as  had  hitherto  been  used,  was  to  put  shame  upon 
his  skill.  "For  his  own  part,"  he  said,  "and  in  the  land 
where  he  was  bred,  men  would  as  soon  take  for  their 
mark  King  Arthur's  round  table,  which  held  sixty 


70  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

knights  around  it.  A  child  of  seven  years  old,"  he  said, 
"might  hit  yonder  target  with  a  headless  shaft;  but," 
added  he,  walking  deliberately  to  the  other  end  of  the 
lists,  and  sticking  the  willow  wand  upright  in  the  ground, 
"he  that  hits  that  rod  at  five-score  yards,  I  call  him  an 
archer  fit  to  bear  both  bow  and  quiver  before  a  king, 
an  it  were  the  stout  King  Richard  himself." 

"My  grandsire,"  said  Hubert,  "drew  a  good  bow  at 
the  battle  of  Hastings,  and  never  shot  at  such  a  mark  in 
his  life  —  and  neither  will  I.  If  this  yeoman  can  cleave 
that  rod,  I  give  him  the  bucklers  —  or  rather  I  yield  to 
the  devil  that  is  in  his  jerkin,  and  not  to  any  human  skill ; 
a  man  can  but  do  his  best,  and  I  will  not  shoot  where 
I  am  sure  to  miss.  I  might  as  well  shoot  at  the  edge  of 
our  parson's  whittle,  or  at  a  wheat-straw,  or  at  a  sun- 
beam, as  at  a  twinkling  white  streak  which  I  can  hardly 
see." 

"  Cowardly  dog ! "  said  Prince  John.  "  Sirrah  Locks- 
ley,  do  thou  shoot;  but  if  thou  hittest  such  a  mark,  I 
will  say  thou  art  the  first  man  ever  did  so.  Howe'er  it 
be,  thou  shalt  not  crow  over  us  with  a  mere  show  of 
superior  skill." 

"I  will  do  my  best,  as  Hubert  says,"  answered  Locks- 
ley;  "no  man  can  do  more." 

So  saying,  he  again  bent  his  bow,  but  on  the  present 
occasion  looked  with  attention  to  his  weapon,  and 


LOCKSLEY'S    CHALLENGE    AT    THE    ARCHERY    COMPETITION, 


THE   TALE    CONTINUES  71 

changed  the  string,  which  he  thought  was  no  longer 
truly  round,  having  been  a  little  frayed  by  the  two 
former  shots.  He  then  took  his  aim  with  some  delibera- 
tion, and  the  multitude  awaited  the  event  in  breath- 
less silence.  The  archer  vindicated  their  opinion  of  his 
skill;  his  arrow  split  the  willow  rod  against  which  it 
was  aimed.  A  jubilee  of  acclamations  followed;  and 
even  Prince  John,  in  admiration  of  Locksley's  skill, 
lost  for  an  instant  his  dislike  to  his  person.  "  These 
twenty  nobles,"  he  said,  "which,  with  the  bugle,  thou 
hast  fairly  won,  are  thine  own;  we  will  make  them 
fifty,  if  thou  wilt  take  livery  and  service  with  us  as  a 
yeoman  of  our  bodyguard,  and  be  near  to  our  person. 
For  never  did  so  strong  a  hand  bend  a  bow,  or  so  true 
an  eye  direct  a  shaft." 

"Pardon  me,  noble  Prince,"  said  Locksley;  "but  I 
have  vowed  that  if  ever  I  take  service,  it  should  be  with 
your  royal  brother,  King  Richard.  These  twenty  nobles 
I  leave  to  Hubert,  who  has  this  day  drawn  as  brave  a 
bow  as  his  grandsire  did  at  Hastings.  Had  his  modesty 
not  refused  the  trial,  he  would  have  hit  the  wand  as  well 
as  I." 

Hubert  shook  his  head  as  he  received  with  reluctance 
the  bounty  of  the  stranger;  and  Locksley,  anxious  to 
escape  further  observation,  mixed  with  the  crowd,  and 

was  seen  no  more. 

******  * 


72  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

It  was  with  an  edifying  modesty  that  I  took  the  praise 
due  to  the  successful  taleteller,  praise  which  was  so  little 
my  own  that  even  the  children  were  not  deceived.  I 
could  see  them  nudge  each  other  and  whisper :  "Father's 
reading!"  "Yes  —  from  the  book — every  word!" 
"I  mean  to  sneak  that  book  after!" 

Hearing  this,  I  was  rejoiced.  It  was  good  that  they 
should  think  that  Scott  was  better  to  read  than  I  to  listen 
to.  Well,  indeed,  if  that  sank  in ! 

Butcher  Donnan,  too,  after  the  first  burst  of  delight, 
praised  not  the  manner  but  the  matter  of  my  relation. 

"If  that  Lock-shy  'ad  been  a  volunteer  in  the  Edam 
corps  or  a  small  boresman,  I'd  ha'  backed  him  heavy  at 
Bisley !  We'd  ha'  gone  up  there,  him  an'  me  —  ay, 
and  made  more  money  in  a  week  than  at  the  butcher- 
ing in  a  score  of  years !" 

"If  you  could  have  got  anybody  to  take  your  bets," 
I  reminded  him,  gently. 

"Man,"  he  burst  out,  the  fact  that  he  used  the  word 
proving  his  excitement,  "man,  d'ye  no  see  —  he  would 
be  the  dark  horse.  Ay,  not  a  man  o'  them  would  guess 
his  form.  And  I  would  nurse  this  here  Locksley,  and 
manage  him  like  a  trainer  that  knows  his  business.  He 
would  lose  all  the  events  there  was  nothing  in  —  for  to 
keep  down  his  aggregates,  ye  see.  But  whenever  a  big 
pot  came  along,  in  he  would  go  and  scoop  it!  Yes, 


THE   TALE   CONTINUES  73 

man  —  he  would  win  the  big  events  but  no  by  a  great 
deal  —  no  sky-scrapin'  scores.  No,  no,  that  only  fright- 
ens the  rest.  Look  at  Hubert  there.  He  would  not  so 
much  as  put  cheek  to  butt  against  him  at  the  long  range. 
See  the  wisdom  o'  my  plan !  I  wager  any  money  that 
this  here  Locksley  would  never  be  let  shoot  at  the  same 
place  again  —  Ashby,  was  it,  thank'ee  —  without  get- 
ting from  the  committee  a  bonny-like  handicap  to 
carry  —  going  on  in  that  reckless,  braggin'  way,  lettin' 
everybody  ken  the  'triple  blue'  he  was,  and  never  a 
penny  the  more  in  his  pouch  when  all  was  done." 

We  accepted  all  this  wisdom  from  the  sporting 
butcher  without  a  murmur.  And  I  am  sure  that  when 
he  went  away  that  night,  taking  the  drying-green  railings 
in  his  stride,  he  was  carrying  in  his  head  the  hope  that 
one  day  he  and  Locksley  might  meet,  when  it  would  not 
be  Butcher  Donnan's  fault  if  they  did  not,  in  his  own 
words,  "rig  up  a  deal  that  would  scoop  the  very  — 
interior  parts  —  out  of  Bisley." 

THE   FOURTH   TALE   FROM   "IVANHOE" 

AFTER  this  it  was  difficult  for  me  to  live  up  to  the  bold 
cut-and-thrust  of  Locksley's  archery.  But  observing 
the  open  mouth  and  fixed  gaze  of  Butcher  Donnan,  and 


74  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

urged  by  the  children,  I  was  fain  to  proceed.  All  four 
felt  that  the  honour  of  the  house  was  at  stake.  They 
had  boasted  with  vain  words  about  these  tales.  It 
was  my  part  to  make  those  boasts  good.  Well,  I  could 
only  try.  Like  Hubert  —  a  man  can  but  do  his  best. 
So  I  proceeded  at  once  with  the  tale  of 

THE  CASTLE  OF  FRONT  DE  BCEUF 

"The  Sluggard  Knight"  (as  he  had  been  called  in  the 
lists  of  Ashby,  the  same  whose  prompt  assistance  in  the 
melee  had  won  the  victory  for  the  side  of  the  wounded 
Ivanhoe)  promptly  disappeared  from  the  lists  at  the 
breaking  up  of  the  tournament.  In  fact  he  rode  away 
northward  through  the  forest  of  Sherwood,  and  by  sun- 
set he  had  completely  lost  his  way. 

In  the  waste,  a  feeble  light  guided  him  to  a  hermit's 
cell,  where  he  found  shelter;  and  presently,  when  his 
host  had  thawed  a  little,  entertainment  of  the  best. 
This  hermit  was  a  certain  famous  Friar  Tuck,  called  at 
the  time  the  Jolly  Clerk  of  Copmanhurst,  and  his  cell 
was  in  a  dell  not  far  from  where  the  ruins  of  Fountains 
Abbey  now  stand.  He  wore  the  robe  of  an  order,  and 
was  indeed  a  proper  priest,  shaven  and  shorn.  But  all 
the  same  he  was  ready  to  drink  the  wassail  down,  sing  a 
gallant  song,  or  in  the  event  of  a  quarrel,  to  hold  his  own 
with  the  broadsword  and  targe,  like  a  good  outlaw  of  the 


THE   CASTLE    OF   FRONT   DE   BOEUF        75 

greenwood.  The  Sluggard  Knight  asked  so  many 
questions,  that  the  hermit  called  him  impertinent,  for 
wanting  to  know  if  the  good  venison  they  were  eating 
came  from  one  of  the  royal  bucks,  found  transfixed 
with  a  clothyard  shaft  in  the  course  of  some  moonlight 
walk. 

But,  with  a  song  and  a  jest,  the  hermit's  anger  passed 
over  as  quickly  as  it  had  come ;  and  the  pair  were  in 
the  midst  of  a  shouted  chorus  when  a  knock  fell  upon 
the  outer  door,  which  frighted  the  hermit  so  much  that 
he  instantly  began  to  intone  a  churchly  chaunt,  while, 
as  far  as  might  be,  he  shovelled  into  their  hiding  places 
the  remnants  of  the  feast. 

The  newcomer,  however,  was  no  other  than  the  bold 
Archer  Locksley,  who  came  with  news  that  a  band  of 
pretended  outlaws  had  seized  Cedric  the  Saxon  and  his 
ward,  the  Lady  Rowena,  together  with  the  Jew  Isaac  of 
York  and  his  daughter  Rebecca.  These  were  now  held 
for  ransom  in  Front  de  Bceuf's  castle  of  Torquilstone, 
and  plunder  and  torture  were  the  least  they  had  to  fear. 

The  Sluggard  Knight  seemed  astonished  at  the  news, 
and  particularly  demanded  if  Front  de  Bceuf  had 
stooped  to  be  a  robber  and  an  oppressor. 

"An  oppressor  he  always  was,"  cried  Locksley  the 
Archer,  instantly. 

"And  as  for  thief,"  added  the  priest,  "I  will  warrant 


76  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

that  he  is  none  so  honest  a  man  as  many  a  robber  of 
my  acquaintance." 


Indeed  the  news  was  but  too  true.  Cedric's  party 
had  been  surrounded  and  captured  by  De  Bracy  and 
some  of  his  Free  Companions  assisted  by  the  Templar 
Bois-Guilbert.  All  had  been  disguised  as  Saxon 
woodland  outlaws  with  bow,  quiver,  and  coat  of  Lin- 
coln green.  Cedric  had  fought  bravely,  and  Athelstane 
the  Unready  would  also  have  fought  if  there  had  been 
time.  But  in  the  end  the  whole  party,  with  the  single 
exception  of  Wamba  the  Jester,  was  safely  shut  up  in 
the  dungeons  of  the  Torquilstone,  the  castle  of  the  cruel 
Front  de  Bceuf. 

Here  Cedric  and  Athelstane  remained  in  prison, 
though  treated  with  some  civility.  But  Front  de  Bceuf 
began  his  preparations  for  torturing  the  Jew  into  giving 
him  a  great  ransom.  On  the  other  hand,  De  Bracy 
began  to  pay  his  court  to  the  Lady  Rowena,  whose  great 
lands  and  possessions  he  had  long  desired,  while  the 
Templar,  less  honourably,  resolved  at  all  hazards  to 
carry  off  the  beautiful  Rebecca,  the  daughter  of  the 
Jew  Isaac  of  York. 

But  outside  the  castle  walls  the  storm  was  brewing. 
Wamba  the  Jester  had  found  Gurth  the  swineherd, 


THE   CASTLE   OF   FRONT   DE   BCEUF        77 

whom  he  informed  that  his  wounded  master,  Wilfred  of 
Ivanhoe,  had  also  been  seized  by  De  Bracy,  and  shut  up 
in  the  castle  of  Front  de  Bceuf  —  so  that,  if  he  wished 
to  save  any  of  the  race  of  Cedric,  he  must  haste  to  gather 
all  available  men  to  assault  the  castle.  It  seemed,  and 
might  well  seem,  a  desperate  undertaking. 

But  in  the  nick  of  time  the  outlaw  Locksley  offered 
his  assistance.  And  it  was  while  summoning  his  men 
that  on  knocking  at  the  door  where  dwelt  stout  Friar 
Tuck  in  the  greenwood  of  Copmanhurst  he  stumbled  on 
the  knight  called  the  Black  Sluggard. 

As  the  Black  Knight  was  a  Crusader,  newly  returned 
from  the  wars,  and  therefore  learned  in  the  manner  of 
taking  castles,  as  well  as  victor  over  Front  de  Bceuf 
in  the  lists  of  Ashby,  Locksley  and  his  band  chose  him 
as  their  leader  in  the  venture. 

An  opportunity  of  speaking  with  the  prisoners  was 
given  by  the  besieged  themselves.  On  receiving  the 
summons  of  the  Black  Knight,  called  in  the  Norman- 
French  language  Le  Noir  Faineant,  the  captors  sent 
back  a  defiance  in  the  hand  of  the  Templar  (who  was 
indeed  the  only  one  of  them  able  to  write).  And  to  this 
they  added  these  words:  "Touching  the  prisoners,  we 
do  in  Christian  charity  require  you  to  send  a  man  of 
religion  to  receive  their  confessions  and  reconcile  them 
to  religion.  For  it  is  our  fixed  intention  to  execute  them 


78  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

this  morning  before  noon,  so  that  their  heads,  placed  on 
the  battlements,  may  show  how  lightly  we  esteem  those 
who  have  bestirred  themselves  to  their  rescue." 

The  Saxons  outside  did  not  believe  that  the  besieged 
would  carry  out  their  threat  —  not  from  any  motive  of 
pity,  but  because  such  good  ransoms  as  those  of  Cedric 
and  Athelstane,  not  to  speak  of  that  of  Isaac  of  York, 
would  not  be  lightly  thrown  away.  However,  the  Black 
Knight  considered  it  absolutely  necessary  that  they 
should  know  the  strength  and  spirit  of  the  defenders,  in 
order  to  profit  by  the  weakness  of  their  defences  or  the 
fewness  of  their  numbers. 

Friar  Tuck  having  refused  to  put  his  head  into  the 
throat  of  the  wolf,  Wamba  volunteered,  trusting  to  his 
ready  tongue  and  his  witty  folly  to  carry  him  off.  Also, 
in  case  of  capture,  he  could  plead  that,  being  a  fool, 
he  had  only  acted  according  to  his  profession. 

Accordingly,  when  Wamba  arrived  at  the  castle  of 
Torquilstone,  he  was  received  without  suspicion  as  the 
holy  man  whom  they  had  demanded.  The  numbers  of 
the  party  within  the  castle  were  few.  De  Bracy  had  sent 
on  his  band  of  Free  Companions  to  York,  where  were 
also  most  of  Front  de  Bceuf 's  Normans.  The  Templar, 
as  usual,  travelled  with  his  Saracen  slaves.  There 
remained  therefore  only  those  who  had  taken  part  in 


THE   CASTLE   OF   FRONT   DE   BCEUF        79 

the  capture,  and  the  two  or  three  men  who  had  been 
left  behind  as  sufficient  to  secure  so  strong  a  castle  as 
that  of  Torquilstone  against  sudden  attack. 

The  supposed  monk  was  instantly  asked  how  many 
of  the  besiegers  there  might  be  outside,  and  threatened 
with  death  if  he  did  not  speak  truly. 

Wamba  gave  five  hundred  as  a  probable  figure, 
whereupon  the  knights  resolved  to  send  a  written 
summons  by  his  own  hand  to  York  to  summon  the  full 
muster  of  De  Bracy's  band  to  their  master's  relief. 

While  this  message  was  being  penned  on  a  small 
piece  of  parchment  such  as  might  be  hidden  in  the  heel 
of  a  sandal  or  the  hollow  of  a  staff,  Wamba  set  off, 
muttering  scraps  of  Latin  as  he  went,  to  prepare  Cedric 
and  Athelstane  for  their  doom. 

He  found  Cedric,  full  of  energy  as  ever,  pacing  his 
dungeon  floor,  chafing  against  fate,  while  easy-going 
Athelstane  awaited  for  the  announcement  of  death 
as  carelessly  as  if  it  had  been  his  dinner.  To  these 
Wamba  was  not  long  in  declaring  himself. 

Hardly  indeed  had  he  spoken  when  Cedric  cried 
out  that  he  should  know  that  voice  —  upon  which 
Wamba  threw  back  his  monk's  hood. 

"The  voice  is  that  of  your  trusty  slave  and  Jester !" 
said  Wamba.  "And  had  you  taken  a  fool's  advice 
before,  you  would  not  have  been  here.  Ay,  and  even 


8o  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

if  you  will  take  it  now,  you  shall  not  remain  here 
long!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  knave?"  demanded  Cedric. 

"Take  my  robe  and  cord,  which  are  all  the  orders  I 
ever  had,"  said  the  fool;  "then  walk  quietly  out  of  the 
castle,  leaving  me  your  cloak  and  girdle  in  which  to 
take  the  Long  Leap  in  your  stead !" 

"Why,"  said  Cedric,  at  once  astonished,  "they  would 
hang  you,  my  poor -fool!" 

"Well,"  retorted  Wamba,  "without  disparagement 
to  your  birth,  I  think  I  could  hang  in  a  chain  with  as 
much  gravity  even  as  you.  My  grandfather  was  an 
alderman  and  wore  a  chain  round  his  neck  soberly 
enough.  I  promise  you,  Master,  that  your  poor  fool 
will  not  shame  you  in  the  manner  of  his  dying!" 

Cedric  was  touched.    The  tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 

"Be  sure,"  he  said,  "that  I  will  come  back  and  de- 
liver this  faithful  fool  as  well  as  my  kinsfolk  and 
friends!" 

And  in  his  turn  he  assumed  the  monk's  dress,  while 
Athelstane  and  Wamba  gave  him  advice  how  to  act 
the  part. 

"Remember,  a  good  friar  never  refuses  meat  and 
drink,"  said  the  huge  Saxon  thane,  wishing  that  it  had 
been  his  luck  to  be  offered  either. 

"And  whatever  they  say  to  you,"  urged  Wamba, 


THE   CASTLE   OF   FRONT   DE   BCEUF        81 

"remember  to  answer  only  in  a  grave  churchyard  tone 
'Pax  Vobiscum.'  That  will  carry  you  through. 
These  words  are  the  witch's  spell  of  all  holy  brothers !" 

So,  equipped  with  robe,  cord,  and  cowl,  and  mutter- 
ing his  "Pax  Vobiscum"  to  himself,  Cedric  went  out. 
He  had  not  proceeded  far  when  the  soft  voice  of  the 
Jewess  Rebecca  called  him  to  the  help  of  a  wounded 
Saxon.  She  had  been  permitted  by  her  attendant 
(a  Saxon  woman  named  Urfried,  daughter  of  the  former 
Lord  of  Torquilstone,  long  held  in  captivity  by  Front 
de  Boeuf  and  his  father)  to  attend  Ivanhoe  after  his 
capture  by  De  Bracy.  But  Urfried  came  back  before 
Cedric,  in  the  character  of  a  priest,  could  be  brought 
to  the  bedside  of  his  son.  Urfried  also  desired  a  priest 
to  whom,  in  that  abode  of  iniquity,  she  could  confess 
herself. 

The  story  she  told  was  a  terrible  one,  and  in  the 
course  of  it,  when  she  found  out  that  the  pretended 
priest  was  no  other  than  her  father's  old  friend  and 
ally,  Cedric  of  Rotherwood,  it  was  not  difficult  to  per- 
suade her  to  do  what  she  could  to  assist  the  prisoners, 
because  in  so  doing  she  would  also  be  revenging  herself 
on  Front  de  Bceuf  for  all  the  cruelties  and  indignities 
he  and  his  father  had  caused  her  to  undergo. 

"There  is,"  she  whispered,  "a  force  beleaguering 
Torquilstone  from  without.  Cedric,  go  and  lead 


82  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

them,  and  when  you  see  a  red  flag  wave  from  the 
eastern  turret,  press  them  hard.  For  then  the  Normans 
will  have  enough  to  do  within  the  castle.  Now  begone 
—  follow  your  own  fate  and  leave  me  to  mine." 

She  had  no  time  to  say  more.  Neither  could  Cedric 
make  any  reply.  For  the  voice  of  Front  de  Bceuf  was 
heard  without,  in  the  passage,  cursing  all  loitering 
priests  who  sowed  treason  among  his  domestics.  Yet 
even  Front  de  Bceuf  did  not  penetrate  the  disguise  of 
the  Saxon  thane.  He  was  indeed  too  full  of  his  own 
angers  and  plottings  to  think  of  anything  else.  He 
ordered  the  priest  to  give  the  Saxon  besiegers  of  the 
castle  an  account  of  the  poverty  of  the  defenders,  and 
the  scarcity  of  all  the  munitions  of  war.  He  was  to 
cheer  them  with  the  hope  that  they  could  take  the 
fortress,  and  then  to  slip  away  to  the  castle  of  Philip 
Malvoisin,  who  would  forward  the  written  scroll  to 
York  as  fast  as  horse  could  gallop. 

"Tell  him,"  said  Front  de  Bceuf,  "to  fear  nothing 
if  he  makes  reasonable  haste.  He  will  find  us  safe 
and  sound  behind  the  battlements.  Shame  on  it  that 
even  for  a  moment  we  should  be  compelled  to  hide 
from  a  pack  of  runagates,  who  are  wont  to  fly  at  the 
flash  of  our  pennons  and  the  tramp  of  our  horses." 

It  was  Front  de  Bceuf  himself  who  convoyed  Monk 
Cedric  to  the  gate,  and  even  slipped  a  piece  of  gold  into 


THE   CASTLE   OF  FRONT   DE   BCEUF        83 

his  hand,  which  the  messenger,  so  soon  as  he  was  clear 
of  the  drawbridge,  threw  back  at  him  with  the  cry, 
which  happily  was  not  heard  by  the  savage  knight, 
"Thy  money  perish  with  thee,  false  Norman!" 


It  was  then  the  turn  of  Wamba,  who,  wrapped  in 
Cedric's  mantle  and  with  the  Saxon's  sword  by  his  side, 
made  a  very  passable  franklin,  at  least  with  his  flat 
cap  pulled  low  over  his  face  in  the  darkness  of  the  hall. 

Front  de  Breuf  had  the  false  Cedric  and  his  neigh- 
bour Athelstane  called  before  him,  and  with  many 
reproaches  commanded  them  to  speak  out,  and  say 
what  they  considered  the  worth  of  the  lives  of  such 
Saxon  dogs  as  they  were  —  for  if  not,  he  would  hang 
them  by  the  feet  to  the  window  bars  till  the  crows 
picked  them  clean. 

"Not  a  doit  will  I  offer  for  mine,"  said  Wamba, 
"and  as  for  hanging  by  the  feet,  my  poor  brains  have 
been  always  so  topsy-turvy,  that  turning  me  upside 
down  might  perchance  set  them  right  again!" 

"Saint  Genevieve!"  cried  Front  de  Bceuf;  "what 
have  we  here?" 

With  the  back  of  his  hand  he  struck  Cedric's  bonnet 
from  the  Jester's  head,  and,  throwing  open  his  collar, 
showed  the  silver  neck-collar,  the  badge  of  servitude. 


84  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

Then  he  called  aloud  to  his  men. 

"Giles  —  Clement  —  dogs  and  varlets,  what  have 
you  brought  me  here?" 

"Why,"  exclaimed  De  Bracy,  who  came  in  at  the 
moment,  "this  is  no  other  than  Cedric's  clown  —  he 
who  vanquished  Isaac  of  York  with  his  shield  of  brawn 
upon  an  affair  of  precedence." 

"I  will  settle  their  quarrel,"  cried  Front  de  Bceuf ; 
"they  shall  both  hang  on  the  same  gallows,  unless  his 
master  is  ready  to  pay  well  for  his  life,  as  they  must 
for  their  own.  Now,  rascals  (he  turned  to  his  own 
servants),  go  and  bring  the  right  Cedric  before  me  and 
I  will  pardon  your  error  for  once,  the  more  that  you 
but  mistook  a  fool  for  a  Saxon  franklin!" 

But  no  Cedric  could  be  found  in  all  the  castle  of 
Torquilstone,  high  or  low. 

"Saints  of  heaven ! "  cried  De  Bracy,  "he  must  have 
escaped  in  the  monk's  garments !" 

"Fiends  of  hell!"  shouted  the  furious  Front  de 
Bceuf;  "and  I  myself  guided  the  Saxon  knave  like  a 
linkman,  and  dismissed  him  at  the  gate  with  my  own 
hands !  But  thou  (he  turned  to  Wamba)  —  I  will  scalp 
thy  crown  for  thee  !  And  when  that  is  done,  pitch  thee 
headlong  from  the  battlements.  Now,  man,  thy  trade 
is  to  jest,  canst  thou  jest  now?" 

"If  you  give  me  the  red  cap  you  propose,"  said 


THE    CASTLE   OF   FRONT   DE   BCEUF        85 

Wamba,  whom  nothing  could  dismay,  "you  are  better 
than  your  word.  For  out  of  a  simple  monk  you  will 
make  a  cardinal!" 

"  Poor  wretch,"  said  De  Bracy ;  "he  faces  death  with 
good  heart  —  and  on  his  lips  a  jest.  Give  him  to  me 
to  make  mirth  for  my  Free  Companions!" 

De  Bracy's  timely  interference  and  an  urgent  alarm 
on  the  ramparts  saved  Wamba's  life  for  the  moment, 
though  Front  de  Bceuf  was  far  indeed  from  having 
forgiven  the  escape  of  Cedric. 

But  a  real  monk  was  at  the  gate,  a  messenger  from 
the  jovial  Prior  Aymer  of  Jorvaux.  He  too  had  reason 
to  complain.  He  was,  it  seemed,  in  the  power  of  the 
Saxon  outlaws,  and  desired  assistance  or  ransom. 

"His  money-bags  are  ten  times  as  heavy  as  ours," 
said  Front  de  Boeuf,  angrily,  when  the  letter  was  read, 
"and  how  shall  we  succour  any  one,  who  are  ourselves 
herded  closely  by  yonder  pack  of  wolves!" 


Meanwhile,  in  a  turret  high  above,  Ivanhoe  was  lying 
wounded  on  his  bed.  Rebecca,  the  beautiful  Jewess, 
was  watching  him.  He  had  heard  with  impatience  the 
noise  of  soldiers  taking  their  places  on  the  ramparts, 
the  shouted  orders  of  the  knights,  the  rattle  of  arms 
and  armour.  Cries  of  fierce  defiance  came  up  from 


86  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

without.  Now  and  then  an  arrow  would  "spat" 
viciously  on  the  stone  of  the  castle  wall,  sending  the 
plaster  —  stout  shell  lime  burned  upon  the  shores  of 
the  German  Ocean  —  in  clouds  of  dust  past  the  nar- 
row lattice. 

Ivanhoe  mourned  his  evil  luck,  which  kept  him  tied 
to  his  bed  on  such  an  occasion,  and  besought  Rebecca 
to  look  out  and  tell  him  what  she  saw. 

"They  may  never  come  to  any  battle!"  she  said, 
soothingly;  "the  terrible  sounds  have  ceased  for  a 
while." 

"You  know  nothing  about  it,"  cried  Ivanhoe,  with 
the  impatience  of  a  sick  man.  "I  tell  you  that  silence 
is  just  the  pause  which  always  happens  when  the  men 
are  on  the  walls,  waiting  for  instant  attack  —  ah,  if 
I  could  but  reach  the  turret  window  yonder  — " 

"Do  not  harm  yourself,"  said  Rebecca,  softly.  "I 
myself  will  look  out  and  tell  you,  as  well  as  I  can, 
what  is  happening  below." 

"Do  not,"  cried  Ivanhoe.  "You  shall  not  — 
you  must  not  —  each  lattice  —  each  smallest  slot  will 
be  a  mark  for  arrows  —  some  random  shaft — " 

"It  would  be  welcome!"  said  Rebecca,  with  a  sigh. 
She  had  loved  the  gallant  young  knight  of  Ivanhoe 
from  the  first,  and  though  he  had  looked  kindly  enough 
upon  her,  she  knew  well  that  he  would  never  wed  one 


THE   CASTLE   OF  FRONT  DE   BCEUF        87 

of  the  "accursed  race,"  as  the  Jews  were  called  at  that 
time. 

"Rebecca  —  dear  Rebecca,"  exclaimed  Ivanhoe, 
"this  is  no  maiden's  pastime.  Do  not  expose  yourself 
to  wounds,  and  so  make  me  forever  miserable  to  have 
been  the  cause!" 

But  seeing  her  determined,  he  added,  "If  you  must, 
then  at  least  cover  yourself  with  the  old  buckler  which 
hangs  on  the  wall  yonder,  and  show  as  little  as  possible 
of  your  person  at  the  lattice." 

"The  skirts  of  the  wood  are  dark  with  archers," 
said  Rebecca,  peeping  cautiously  out.  "At  the  outer 
fortification  there  is  a  gate  beyond  the  drawbridge, 
at  which  are  gathered  a  great  number  of  the  besieged 
—  Front  de  Bceuf  at  their  head.  Ah,  now  the  Saxons 
are  advancing  to  the  attack." 

"Under  what  banner?" 

"Under  none  that  I  can  see!"  said  Rebecca,  look- 
ing carefully;  "but  for  a  leader  they  have  a  knight  in 
black  armour  whom  all  about  him  obey!" 

"What  device  does  he  bear  on  his  buckler?"  de- 
manded Ivanhoe,  hastily. 

"Something  like  a  bar  of  iron,  and  a  padlock  painted 
blue  on  the  black  shield!" 

Ivanhoe  was  meditating  who  might  be  the  bearer 
of  this  remarkable  coat  of  arms,  when  Rebecca,  utter- 


88  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

ing  a  sharp  cry,  which  was  half  a  prayer  for  protection 
and  half  the  instinct  of  girlish  fear,  informed  the 
wounded  knight  that  the  assailants  were  at  last  ap- 
proaching the  castle  under  cover  of  huge  shields  and 
defences  made  of  planks. 

The  Saxon  bugles  blew  loudly  beneath.  The  Nor- 
man trumpets  threw  back  their  defiance  from  the 
ramparts.  The  assailants  cried,  "Saint  George  for 
Merry  England  !"  The  Normans  answered  with  loud 
cries  of  "En  avant  De  Bracy  !  Beau-seant!  Beau-seant! 
Front  de  Bceuf  a  la  rescousse  I "  as  each  man-at-arms 
called  the  war-cry  of  his  own  commander. 

[At  this  point,  unperceived  by  the  children  and  my 
other  auditors,  I  dropped  my  eye  upon  my  author, 
the  only  begetter  of  these  wonderful  tales.] 

The  archers,  trained  by  their  woodland  pastimes  to 
the  most  effective  use  of  the  long-bow,  shot,  to  use  the 
appropriate  phrase  of  the  time,  so  "  wholly  together," 
that  no  point  at  which  a  defender  could  show  the  least 
part  of  his  person  escaped  their  cloth-yard  shafts. 
By  this  heavy  discharge,  which  continued  as  thick  and 
sharp  as  hail,  while,  notwithstanding,  every  arrow 
had  its  individual  aim,  and  flew  by  scores  together 
against  each  embrasure  and  opening  in  the  parapets, 
as  well  as  at  every  window  where  a  defender  either 


THE   CASTLE   OF   FRONT   DE   BCEUF        89 

occasionally  had  post,  or  might  be  suspected  to  be 
stationed,  by  this  sustained  discharge,  two  or  three  of 
the  garrison  were  slain  and  several  others  wounded. 
But,  confident  in  their  armour  of  proof,  and  in  the  cover 
which  their  situation  afforded,  the  followers  of  Front 
de  Breuf  and  his  allies  showeq!  an  obstinacy  in  defence 
proportioned  to  the  fury  of  the  attack,  and  replied  with 
the  discharge  of  their  large  crossbows,  as  well  as  with 
their  long-bows,  slings,  and  other  missile  weapons,  to 
the  close  and  continued  showers  of  arrows ;  and,  as  the 
assailants  were  necessarily  but  indifferently  protected, 
did  considerably  more  damage  than  they  received  at 
their  hand.  The  whizzing  of  shafts  and  of  missiles, 
on  both  sides,  was  only  interrupted  by  the  shouts 
which  arose  when  either  side  inflicted  or  sustained 
some  notable  loss. 

"What  dost  thou  see,  Rebecca?"  again  demanded 
the  wounded  knight,  eagerly. 

"  Nothing  but  the  cloud  of  arrows  flying  so  thick  as 
to  dazzle  mine  eyes,  and  to  hide  the  bowmen  who 
shoot  them." 

"That  cannot  endure,"  cried  Ivanhoe;  "if  they 
press  not  right  on  to  carry  the  castle  by  pure  force  of 
arms,  the  archery  may  avail  but  little  against  stone 
walls  and  bulwarks.  Look  for  the  Knight  of  the 
Fetterlock,  fair  Rebecca,  and  see  how  he  bears  him- 


90  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

self;  for  as  the  leader  is,  so  will  the  followers 
be." 

"I  see  him  not,"  said  Rebecca. 

"Foul  craven,"  exclaimed  Ivanhoe;  "does  he 
blench  from  the  helm  when  the  wind  blows  highest?" 

"He  blenches  not !  he  blenches  not !"  said  Rebecca. 
"I  see  him  now;  he  heads  a  body  of  men  close  under 
the  outer  barrier  of  the  barbican.  They  pull  down 
the  piles  and  palisades;  they  hew  down  the  barriers 
with  axes.  His  high  black  plume  floats  abroad  over 
the  throng,  like  a  raven  over  the  field  of  the  slain. 
They  have  made  a  breach  in  the  barriers  —  they  rush 
in  —  they  are  thrust  back !  Front  de  Bceuf  heads 
the  defenders ;  I  see  his  gigantic  form  above  the  press. 
They  throng  again  to  the  breach,  and  the  pass  is  dis- 
puted hand  to  hand,  and  man  to  man.  God  of  Jacob ! 
it  is  the  meeting  of  two  fierce  tides  —  the  conflict  of 
two  oceans  moved  by  adverse  winds!" 

She  turned  her  head  from  the  lattice,  as  if  unable 
longer  to  endure  a  sight  so  terrible. 

"Look  forth  again,  Rebecca,"  said  Ivanhoe,  mis- 
taking the  cause  of  her  retiring;  "the  archery  must  in 
some  degree  have  ceased,  since  they  are  now  fighting 
hand  to  hand.  Look  again,  there  is  now  less  danger." 

Rebecca  again  looked  forth,  and  almost  immediately 
exclaimed:  "Holy  prophets  of  the  law!  Front  de 


WHAT    DOST   THOU    SEE,    REBECCA  ?  " 


THE   CASTLE   OF   FRONT   DE   BCEUF        91 

Bceuf  and  the  Black  Knight  fight  hand  to  hand  on  the 
breach,  amid  the  roar  of  their  followers,  who  watch 
the  progress  of  the  strife.  Heaven  strike  with  the 
cause  of  the  oppressed  and  of  the  captive!"  She 
then  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  exclaimed,  "He  is 
down!  —  he  is  down!" 

"Who  is  down?"  cried  Ivanhoe;  "for  Our  dear 
Lady's  sake,  tell  me  which  has  fallen?" 

"The  Black  Knight,"  answered  Rebecca,  faintly; 
then  instantly  again  shouted  with  eager  joyfulness  — 
"But  no  —  but  no  !  —  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts 
be  blessed !  he  is  on  foot  again,  and  fights  as  if 
there  were  twenty  men's  strength  in  his  single  arm. 
His  sword  is  broken  —  he  snatches  an  axe  from  a  yeo- 
man —  he  presses  Front  de  Bceuf  with  blow  on  blow. 
The  giant  stoops  and  totters  like  an  oak  under  the 
steel  of  the  woodman  —  he  falls  —  he  falls!" 

"Front  de  Bceuf?"  exclaimed  Ivanhoe. 

"Front  de  Bceuf !"  answered  the  Jewess.  "His  men 
rush  to  the  rescue,  headed  by  the  haughty  Templar ; 
their  united  force  compels  the  champion  to  pause. 
They  drag  Front-de-Bceuf  within  the  walls." 

"The  assailants  have  won  the  barriers,  have  they 
not?"  said  Ivanhoe. 

"They  have — they  have ! "  exclaimed  Rebecca ;  "and 
they  press  the  besieged  hard  upon  the  outer  wall; 


92 

some  plant  ladders,  some  swarm  like  bees,  and  en- 
deavour to  ascend  upon  the  shoulder  of  each  other; 
down  go  stones,  beams,  and  trunks  of  trees  upon  their 
heads,  and  as  fast  as  they  bear  the  wounded  to  the  rear, 
fresh  men  supply  their  places  in  the  assault.  Great 
God !  hast  thou  given  men  thine  own  image,  that  it 
should  be  thus  cruelly  defaced  by  the  hands  of  their 
brethren ! " 

"Think  not  of  that,"  said  Ivanhoe;  "this  is  no  time 
for  such  thoughts.  Who  yield?  who  push  their  way?" 

"The  ladders  are  thrown  down,"  replied  Rebecca, 
shuddering;  "the  soldiers  lie  grovelling  under  them 
like  crushed  reptiles.  The  besieged  have  the  better." 

"Saint  George  strike  for  us !"  exclaimed  the  knight; 
"do  the  false  yeomen  give  way?" 

"No!"  exclaimed  Rebecca;  "they  bear  themselves 
right  yeomanly.  The  Black  Knight  approaches  the 
postern  with  his  huge  axe;  the  thundering  blows 
which  he  deals,  you  may  hear  them  above  all  the  din 
and  shouts  of  the  battle.  Stones  and  beams  are 
hailed  down  on  the  bold  champion;  he  regards  them 
no  more  than  if  they  were  thistledown  or  feathers!" 

"By  Saint  John  of  Acre,"  said  Ivanhoe,  raising 
himself  joyfully  on  his  couch,  "methought  there  was 
but  one  man  in  England  that  might  do  such  a  deed !" 

"The  postern   gate   shakes,"    continued   Rebecca; 


THE   CASTLE   OF   FRONT   DE   BCEUF        93 

"it  crashes  —  it  is  splintered  by  his  blows  —  they 
rush  in  —  the  outwork  is  won.  O  God !  they  hurl 
the  defenders  from  the  battlements  —  they  throw 
them  into  the  moat.  O  men,  if  ye  be  indeed  men, 
spare  them  that  can  resist  no  longer!" 

"The  bridge  —  the  bridge  which  communicates 
with  the  castle  —  have  they  won  that  pass?"  ex- 
claimed Ivanhoe. 

"No,"  replied  Rebecca,  "the  Templar  has  destroyed 
the  plank  on  which  they  crossed  —  few  of  the  defenders 
escaped  with  him  into  the  castle  —  the  shrieks  and 
cries  which  you  hear  tell  the  fate  of  the  others." 

END   OF   THE   FIFTH   TALE   FROM    "  IVANHOE " 

The  children  scattered  into  the  dim  and  misty  twi- 
light of  the  Park  Near  Wood,  there  to  commit  mutual 
assault  and  battery.  Nipper  Donnan  accompanied 
them.  His  father  sent  a  hail  of  warning  after  him. 

Nipper  (it  appeared)  had  to  be  "in,"  in  time  to  wash 
counters  and  "clean  up."  He  was  also  required  "not 
to  hurt  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen."  His  father 
stated  the  attached  pains  and  penalties  in  detail,  and 
these,  if  carried  out  with  rigour,  would  have  made  the 
days  of  Nipper  Donnan  brief  in  the  land. 

However,  from  information  received,  I  was  able  to 


94  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

reassure  Mr.  Butcher  Donnan.  The  young  gentlemen, 
not  to  mention  the  ladies,  were  quite  able  to  look  after 
themselves.  Once  there  had  been  warfare  of  a  serious 
kind  between  the  house  of  Donnan  and  that  of  Windy 
Standard.  But  now  all  that  was  (literally)  no  more 
than  "a  tale  that  is  told." 

So  I  remained  alone  in  the  growing  dusk  with  Mr. 
Butcher  Donnan.  The  night-jar,  upon  whose  visits 
we  so  greatly  pride  ourselves,  swooped  past  with  a  soft 
"woof"  of  feathers. 

"Pity  that  fellow  Locksley  isn't  here  to  put  an  arrow 
through  that  there  owel!"  said  Donnan. 

I  informed  the  good  Butcher  that  if  Locksley  at- 
tempted such  a  thing,  I  should  certainly  speak  to  the 
police. 

"Holy  Bridget ! "  said  Mr.  Donnan,  "ye  don't  mean 
to  say  now  that  ye  preserves  varmin  like  them.  What 
good  does  the  like  o'  him  do?" 

I  explained  that  the  night-jar  did  no  harm.  On 
the  contrary,  that  he  ate  moths  which  laid  caterpillars, 
which  ate  vegetables  —  also  flies  which  made  the  meat 
in  butchers'  shops  go  bad ! 

"Does  he  so?"  cried  Mr.  Donnan,  interested  by 
this  very  sketchy  natural  history;  "thin,  can  you  tell 
me  where  that  there  'jarry-oweP  has  his  nest?  I'll 
send  that  Nipper  o'  mine  to  get  a  pair  o'  young  ones. 


INTERLUDE  95 

Them  flies  in  the  shop  is  a  pest  and  all !  Sure  this 
'jarry-owel'  goes  for  the  big  blue  'uns?" 

I  was  sure.  Bushels  was  no  name  for  the  quantity 
of  "big  blue  'uns"  one  single  "jarry-owel"  could 
account  for  in  a  day. 

It  was  arranged,  therefore,  that  if  our  night-jars 
nested,  a  pair  were  to  be  the  portion  of  Nipper  Donnan, 
who  was  to  feed  them  for  his  father.  Privately  I  ar- 
ranged, for  natural  history  reasons,  that  nothing  of 
the  kind  should  take  place. 

Then  what  I  had  been  waiting  for  occurred.  Mr. 
Butcher  Donnan  began  his  impressions  of  "Ivanhoe." 

"Between  you  an'  me"  (he  began),  "the  man  that 
wrote  down  yon  yarn,  put  in  a  bit  of  a  stretcher  here  an' 
there.  Now  don't  be  thinkin'  I  mean  about  the 
splitting  of  that  saugh-wand  —  I've  done  some  neat 
things  with  a  rook-rifle  myself.  But  them  all  runnin' 
about  with  priests'  duds  on,  and  one  bein'  took  for 
another  regular  as  Saturday's  pay-day.  Think  I'd 
not  know  you,  sir,  if  you  was  dressed  up  in  Father 
Phil  Flannigan's  togs,  or  you  me?  'Donnan,'  sez 
you,  'come  out  of  that  harness.  There's  no  good 
comes  of  such  doin's '  —  and  right  you  would  be. 
Regular  treadin'  on  the  coat-tails  of  Holy  Saint  Peter, 
I  call  it." 

But  I  pointed  out  to  Mr.  Donnan  that  the  times  had 


96  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

changed  during  seven  centuries,  and  how  monks  and 
priests  were  freer  in  their  actions  in  those  days. 

"I  should  say  so,  indeed,"  cried  Mr.  Donnan.  "Now 
that  Friar  Tuck  was  a  regular  hedge  priest,  with  his 
poachin'  and  potheen  drinkin'.  But  for  all  his  clay- 
more an'  Highland  sports  rig-out,  I'll  wager  Father 
Phil  Flannigan  could  crack  his  head  with  a  sprig  of 
the  tidy  black-thorn  in  four  seconds  by  a  stop-watch." 

I  explained  about  Robin  Hood  and  the  hatred  of 
Saxon  to  Norman  on  account  of  old  sores  about  evic- 
tions and  loss  of  landed  property. 

"No  wonder,  then,  that  when  Ivanhoe  an'  his  Saxons 
got  the  upper  hand  again  wid  their  Magny  Charty  to 
help  them  (and  a  fine  fellow  I'll  be  bound  he  was !) 
they  came  over  and  started  the  same  game  wid  us  in 
Ireland.  'Twas  the  same  old  Norman  medicine  they 
gave  us  —  ay,  an'  to  this  very  day,  as  I've  heard  my 
grandfather  tell  —  " 

But  here  Mr.  Butcher  Donnan  began  to  talk  high 
treason,  into  which  we  will  not  follow  him.  To  turn 
him  from  his  fixed  idea  of  a  modern  application  for 
Ivanhoe,  I  suggested  that  it  might  be  well  to  superintend 
the  siege  of  Torquilstone  down  in  the  valley,  where  an 
old  castellated  ruin  stood  on  a  long  low  island  in  the 
river,  and  represented  the  strength  of  Front  de  Bceuf. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  genuineness  of  the 


INTERLUDE  97 

siege  of  this  Torquilstone.  Nipper  had  been  the  only 
one  of  the  company  who  would  take  the  part  of  the 
gigantic  "Front  de  Boeuf."  He  would  do  anything  so 
long  as  there  was  good  fighting  and  plenty  of  it.  Any- 
one could  call  him  "Front  de  Boeuf"  with  impunity. 
But  if  the  noblest  of  earth's  sons  had  called  him 
"Beef  Head,"  Nipper  would  have  held  it  a  trade  insult, 
only  to  be  wiped  out  in  immediate  blood. 

Maid  Margaret  had  been  put  in  a  high  turret  out  of 
harm's  way,  with  a  shawl  about  her  and  an  imaginary 
Ivanhoe  to  nurse. 

But  immediately  on  the  outbreak  of  hostilities, 
desolated  at  being  left  so  decidedly  out  of  things,  she 
descended  and  began  actively  to  assist  Front  de  Boeuf 
Donnan  against  her  own  kith  and  kin,  that  noble 
Saxon,  Hugh  John  Locksley,  the  good  knight  Sir 
Toadac,  and  the  beautiful  amazon  Sweetheart-ofrida. 

These  last  three,  as  we  passed  the  bridge  and  came  in 
sight  of  the  castle  wall,  were  manfully  attacking  the 
partisan  and  swarming  up  the  whiffletree  to  the  top  of 
the  Gothic  carapace.  (This  is  what  I  was  told.  There 
was  no  time  to  think  of  the  exact  words  in  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  moment.) 

At  any  rate  they  were  getting  over  certain  half- 
ruined  walls,  and  directing  a  hail  of  deadly  bulrushes 
against  the  solitary  champion  in  the  gateway. 


98  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

These  huge  reeds  had  been  plucked  out  of  the 
marshes  of  the  Castle  Isle  and,  with  a  lump  of  the  roots 
still  adhering  to  each,  they  flew  well  and  made  capital 
javelins. 

"Oh,  come  on,  will  you!  Again,  again!  Well 
shot,  my  merry  men,"  cried  Locksley.  "Well  hit, 
fetched  him  on  the  noddle,  Sweetheart-of rida ! " 

Then  the  real  hearty  Saxon  cheer  went  up,  led  by  the 
Black  Knight  Sir  Toadac,  who  was  returning  with  an 
armful  of  reeds  of  superior  caliber. 

But  a  sudden  and  terrible  thought  came  into  the 
head  of  Maid  Margaret,  who  ought  according  to  the 
text  to  have  been  attending  to  Ivanhoe  up  aloft,  but  in 
reality  was  dancing  about,  fighting  side-by-side,  and 
round  the  corner  and  under  the  armpits  of  Front  de 
Donnan. 

There  was  a  dungeon  in  the  corner  of  the  keep,  the 
bottom  of  which,  ever  since  certain  events  already 
historically  recorded,  had  been  filled  with  a  liquid 
black  sludge,  owing  to  the  bricking  up  of  the  passage- 
exit.  Margaret  the  Turncoat  Maid  accordingly  gath- 
ered up  all  the  shot  darts  —  quite  an  armful  they  were 
—  and,  leaning  over  carefully,  dabbled  the  roots  in  the 
ink-black  porridge. 


INTERLUDE  99 

THE    BESIEGERS    HAD    ON    WHITE    SUMMERY    CLOTHES 

This  was  the  thought.  The  besiegers  also  had 
Powers-that-demand-to-be-told  "How  did  you  get  so 
dirty?"  Maid  Margaret  wore  dark  blue  and  even 
these  were  protected  by  feudal  walls  and  the  aforesaid 
carapaces  and  baroccos  and  vanilla  tureens.  (The 
Maid  never  could  remember  these  long  words  exactly.) 

After  that  the  outside  leopards  changed  their  spots 
very  often  indeed,  by  the  familiar  process  of  simple 
addition.  Sweetheart-ofrida  soon  had  enough,  and 
retired  from  the  field,  almost  sobbing. 

"It's  too  bad  —  too  bad,"  she  mourned;  "it's  spoilt 
—  ruined  —  simply  ruined  !  And  all  that  mischievous 
little  — oh,  wait  till  I  get  her!" 

Archer  Hugh  John  Locksley  and  the  good  black 
(and  white)  knight  Sir  Toadac  fought  on.  But  the 
verdict  of  the  first  attack  on  Torquilstone  was  clearly 
reversed. 

Sternly  Front  de  Donnan  continued  to  hold  the  great 
gate,  and  behind  him  Maid  (Rebecca)  Margaret 
danced,  cheering  wildly,  herself  speckless,  as  she  saw 
three  dishevelled  spectacles  led  away  in  the  direction 
of  Windy  Standard  for  court  martial  and  punishment. 

THE  ENT>     (Moral  sixpence  extra) 


ioo  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Owing  to  Butcher  Donnan's  preoccupations  for 
several  days,  the  Red  Cap  Demon  had  perforce  to 
remain  in  his  great  oak  chest  in  the  Wizard's  Hall. 

Finally,  however,  Mr.  Donnan  arrived  one  afternoon 
on  the  heels  of  tea.  It  was  Sir  Toady  who  caught 
sight  of  him  with  his  cap  already  in  his  hand,  pulling 
an  apologetic  forelock  at  the  garden  gate.  Nipper 
lurked  in  the  shadows,  and  Nipper's  terrier  Spot  fra- 
ternised with  Boss  the  fox-ternfer  who  was  unto  Sir 
Toady  as  the  apple  of  his  eye. 

The  days  were  not  very  distant  when  such  signs 
would  have  been  warlike  and  discourteous.  Now, 
however,  all  was  changed. 

"If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Butcher  Donnan  (spoken 
with  a  faint  far-away  whiff  of  the  if-ye-plaize,  sorr  of 
his  native  Connaught),  "but  if  it  was  convenient  for  you 
—  an'  the  youngsters  —  but  I  see  them  comin'  as  fast 
as  their  legs  can  carry  them.  Faith,  it's  no  bad  use 
that  ye'll  be  puttin'  my  foine  beef  an'  mutton  to,  in 
rearing  such  calves  as  them !" 

Like  many  people  Butcher  Donnan  was  easily  pleased 
with  a  joke  —  when  he  made  it  himself.  So  as  this 
one  combined  (as  it  were)  business  and  pleasure,  he 
laughed  heartily.  He  refused  a  cup  of  tea  as  not 
being  "his  habit,"  but  compromised  on  "a  little  some- 
think  neat,"  which  he  tossed  off  with  a  knowing  twitch 
of  his  little  finger,  and  the  ghost  of  a  wink. 


THE   SACK   OF   TORQUILSTONE  101 

We  gathered  under  the  slopes  of  a  woody  hill.  The 
Esk  ran  clear  as  crystal  beneath,  doves  cooed  across 
among  the  birch  copses,  rooks  sailed  aloft,  playing 
catch-as-catch-can,  and  to  a  full  house,  and  a  specially 
attentive  gallery  (consisting  of  Nipper,  Sir  Toady, 
and  the  two  fox-terriers),  I  began 

THE   FIFTH  TALE  FROM   "IVANHOE" 

I.     THE  SACK   OF   TORQUILSTONE 

WHEN  Cedric  the  Saxon  escaped  from  the  castle,  he 
found  the  besieging  force  strengthening  their  newly 
captured  positions.  Though  much  of  the  castle  was 
yet  to  take,  these  furnished  a  capital  base  for  another 
attack.  Neither  he  nor  the  Black  Knight  were  in- 
clined to  trust  much  to  Urfried's  message.  All  the 
same  they  knew  it  was  good  to  have  a  well-wisher 
within  a  castle  which  they  must  shortly  take  by  storm. 

All  agreed  that  immediate  attack  was  necessary  to 
save  the  lives  of  the  prisoners.  There  was  no  time  to 
lose  with  a  murderous  savage  like  Front  de  Bceuf, 
of  whose  fall  they  knew,  but  not  how  severely  he  was 
wounded.  But  the  axe  of  the  Black  Knight  had  bitten 
deep,  and  Front  de  Bceuf  lay  dying  the  death  of  the 
blasphemer  and  the  parricide. 

At  the  second  assault,  Locksley  again  took  charge 


102  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

of  the  archery,  declaring  that  he  defied  a  man  to  show 
himself  on  the  defences  without  being  struck  as  full  of 
arrows  as  a  gammon  of  bacon  is  of  cloves  at  Christmas. 

Cedric  offered  to  fight  with  the  foremost  in  the  ranks, 
but  steadfastly  declined  any  command.  He  had  no 
skill,  he  said,  either  in  holding  or  in  taking  Norman 
castles. 

The  Black  Knight  therefore  rallied  the  yeomen  who 
were  to  follow  him  in  the  hardest  part  of  the  assault. 
The  moat  must  be  crossed,  and  for  this  purpose  a  raft 
was  constructed,  or  rather  a  kind  of  long  floating  bridge. 

The  heaviest  of  the  attack  fell  to  the  Black  Knight. 
He  was  to  push  across  upon  the  raft  as  soon  as  the 
attention  of  the  besiegers  was  occupied  by  Locksley 
and  his  archers  on  the  opposite  side.  Accordingly  the 
Black  Knight  made  a  sudden  attack,  closely  followed 
by  Cedric,  and  reached  the  gate  of  the  castle.  The 
huge  axe  he  carried  instantly  began  to  thunder  upon  it. 
His  followers,  however,  were  not  quick  enough,  nor 
did  they  receive  the  same  protection  as  the  two  closer 
to  the  wall.  Two  were  shot  with  cross-bow  bolts,  two 
more  fell  into  the  moat,  while  the  rest  retreated  abruptly 
to  shelter  behind  the  barbican. 

Cedric  and  the  Black  Knight  were  now  in  a  very 
perilous  position.  The  arrows  of  the  archers  alone 
gave  them  a  breathing  space. 


THE   SACK   OF   TORQUILSTONE          103 

" Shame  on  ye  all,"  De  Bracy  cried  from  above  to 
the  wavering  Normans;  "do  ye  call  yourselves  cross- 
bowmen  and  let  these  two  dogs  keep  their  place  at  the 
castle  portal  ?  Heave  over  the  coping  stones  on  their 
heads  —  get  pick-axe  and  levers,  and  down  with  that 
pinnacle !" 

But  at  this  very  moment  of  danger  and  discourage- 
ment Locksley,  from  his  station  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  keep,  caught  sight  of  the  red  flag,  Urfried's 
promised  signal.  He  hastened  round  and  in  a  moment 
saw  the  danger  of  the  two  leaders. 

"Saint  George!"  he  cried,  "Merry  Saint  George 
for  England !  To  the  charge,  bold  yeomen !  Why 
leave  ye  the  good  knight  and  noble  Cedric  to  storm  the 
pass  alone?  Make  in,  mad  priest;  show  thou  canst 
fight  for  the  rosary.  The  castle  is  ours !  We  have 
friends  within.  Torquilstone  is  ours!" 

With  two  arrows  in  succession  Locksley  slew  the 
soldiers  who  were  loosening  the  pinnacle  to  cast  it 
down  upon  the  heads  of  the  two  assailants  by  the 
gate.  The  men-at-arms  were  daunted.  Plate  armour 
itself  seemed  no  defence  against  this  tremendous 
archer. 

"Do  ye  give  ground,  base  knaves?"  cried  De  Bracy, 
"Mount  joye  Saint  Denis!  Give  me  the  lever!" 

Thrice  did  Locksley  send  a  shaft  fair  against  De 


104  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Bracy's  breast,  and  three  times  did  the  arrow  rebound 
from  his  armour. 

" Curse  on  thy  Spanish  steel-coat!"  cried  Locksley; 
"had  English  smith  forged  it  —  these  arrows  would 
have  gone  through  it  as  through  silk!  Comrades, 
friends,  noble  Cedric,  bear  back  and  let  the  ruin 
fall!" 

But  in  the  din  of  battle  and  the  onfall  of  the  Black 
Knight's  huge  axe  on  the  postern  gate,  no  one  heard, 
or  at  least  none  paid  any  attention. 

But,  closely  following  the  red  signal  flag,  flames 
broke  from  all  the  western  side  of  the  keep.  The 
Black  Knight  with  his  huge  axe  burst  the  door  and 
rushed  into  the  castle,  dealing  blows  to  right  and  left. 
De  Bracy  hastened  to  meet  the  champion.  But  though 
he  fought  valiantly,  a  blow,  which  would  have  killed 
him  on  the  spot  if  he  had  not  partly  caught  it  on  his 
shield,  levelled  him  to  the  ground. 

Even  thus  he  refused  to  yield  without  knowing  the 
name  of  his  captor.  The  Black  Knight  stooped  and 
whispered  a  word  in  his  ear  which  caused  him  sud- 
denly to  change  his  tone. 

"Go  to  the  barbican,"  commanded  the  victor, 
"and  there  await  my  further  orders." 

"First,"  said  De  Bracy,  "let  me  tell  you  what 
you  ought  to  know.  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe  lies  yonder 


THE   SACK   OF   TORQUILSTONE  105 

wounded  and  a  prisoner.  He  will  perish  in  the  burning 
castle  unless  help  be  taken  to  him  immediately." 

"Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe!"  cried  the  Black  Knight, 
fiercely;  "if  a  hair  of  his  head  perish,  the  neck  of  every 
man  in  the  castle  shall  answer  for  it !  Show  me  the 
chamber!" 

De  Bracy  pointed  to  a  stair,  and  himself  asked  per- 
mission to  show  the  victor  the  way.  But  the  Black 
Knight  repelled  him  with  a  cold  "I  do  not  trust  thee, 
De  Bracy!  To  the  barbican,  as  I  bade  thee!" 


In  Ivanhoe's  chamber,  the  smoke  had  been  thicken- 
ing, the  red  tongues  of  the  flames  began  to  dance  above 
the  turrets,  and  the  crackling  of  the  burning  rafters 
drowned  all  other  sounds. 

Again  and  again  Ivanhoe  begged  Rebecca  to  save 
herself,  but  she  only  answered  that,  if  it  were  death, 
they  would  die  together. 

This,  however,  was  not  to  be  granted  her.  From 
two  sides  rescuers  were  approaching.  First  came 
the  fierce  Templar  Bois-Guilbert,  who  burst  suddenly 
into  the  chamber,  his  gilded  armour  hacked  and 
reddened  with  the  fury  of  battle,  his  plume  burnt  and 
shorn  with  fire  and  sword. 

"Come,  Rebecca,"  he  cried;  "there  is  but  one  path 


io6  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

to  safety.  I  will  cut  my  way  through  fifty  perils  to 
carry  you  away!" 

"Alone,"  said  Rebecca,  "I  will  never  follow  you. 
If  any  heart  is  left  in  you,  save  my  aged  father  —  save 
this  wounded  knight!" 

"A  knight,"  answered  the  Templar,  calmly,  "must 
encounter  his  fate  whether  it  meets  him  in  the  shape  of 
sword  or  flame.  And  who  cares  how  or  where  a  Jew 
meets  with  his?" 

So  saying,  he  seized  the  terrified  maiden,  and  in 
spite  of  her  shrieks  carried  her  out  of  the  room  amidst 
the  vain  taunts  and  helpless  defiances  of  Ivanhoe. 
At  that  moment  the  Black  Knight  entered  the  chamber 
hurriedly.  Ivanhoe  besought  him  in  a  breath  to  seize 
the  traitor  —  to  save  the  Lady  Rowena  —  to  look  to 
the  noble  Cedric. 

"In  their  turn,"  answered  the  Knight  of  the  Fetter- 
lock, "but  yours  first!" 

So  with  no  more  words  he  caught  up  Ivanhoe  in  his 
arms  as  easily  as  the  Templar  had  carried  off  the 
slender  form  of  Rebecca. 


Such  was  that  famous  sack  of  Torquilstone,  the 
castle  of  Front  de  Bceuf,  at  which  quarter  was  neither 
asked  nor  given.  Stairs  and  pavements  grew  slippery 


THE   SACK    OF   TORQUILSTONE  107 

with  blood.  Only  Bois-Guilbert  with  a  little  troop  held 
firm,  surrounding  Rebecca,  who  had  been  placed  on 
horseback  before  one  of  his  Saracen  slaves.  Not- 
withstanding the  fury  of  the  fight  he  showed  every 
attention  to  her  safety.  Repeatedly  he  was  at  the  side 
of  the  Jewess,  defending  her  with  his  triangular  shield, 
careless  of  his  own  defence.  Then  again,  starting 
suddenly,  he  would  charge  out,  crying  his  war-cry, 
and,  striking  the  foremost  of  his  assailants  to  the  earth, 
would  be  back  the  next  moment  at  her  bridle-rein. 

At  last  Athelstane,  who  had  noticed  the  female 
figure  in  the  midst  of  the  Saracens  and  made  no  doubt 
that  it  was  Rowena,  cried  out  that  he  alone  would 
rescue  her  from  the  proud  knight. 

"Think  what  you  do,"  said  Wamba  the  Jester; 
"yon  dark  locks  are  none  of  the  Lady  Rowena's;  and 
for  yourself,  forget  not  that  silk  bonnet  stops  not  steel 
blade." 

But  Athelstane,  if  unready,  was  also  obstinate.  He 
attacked  the  Templar  stoutly  enough,  but  Bois-Guil- 
bert, causing  his  horse  to  rear,  brought  down  his  sword 
so  trenchantly  that  it  shore  through  the  silken  bonnet, 
and  Athelstane  fell  dead  on  the  ground. 

In  the  confusion  which  followed,  the  Templar, 
after  vainly  calling  upon  De  Bracy,  galloped  off  with 
his  followers  and  Rebecca  still  captive  in  the  midst. 


io8  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Higher  and  higher  the  flames  mounted  till  they 
enveloped  the  witchlike  figure  of  the  Saxon  Urfried, 
as  she  stood  tossing  her  arms  in  wild  exultation,  as  if 
queening  it  among  the  vengeance  she  had  wrought 
upon  the  house  of  her  shame. 

At  last,  with  a  dreadful  crash,  the  whole  turret  gave 
way,  and  Urfried  perished  in  the  flames  which  had 
already  consumed  her  tyrant.  All  made  the  sign  of 
the  Cross,  and  then  the  voice  of  Locksley  was  heard : 
" Shout,  yeomen  —  the  den  of  tyrants  is  no  more! 
To  the  Trysting-tree  with  your  spoil !  There  we  will 
most  justly  divide  the  booty  with  our  worthy  allies  in 
this  great  vengeance !" 

What  followed  is  soon  told.  The  outlaws  assembled 
under  a  great  oak,  which  stood  in  the  inmost  glade  of 
Sherwood.  It  was  the  Trysting-tree,  a  sort  of  Parlia- 
ment House  for  the  band.  Robin  Hood,  laying  aside 
his  borrowed  names  of  Archer  Locksley  and  Cleave- 
the-wand,  presided  over  the  strange  gathering.  At  one 
side  of  his  throne  sat  the  Black  Knight  and  on  the  other 
the  Noble  Cedric. 

But  neither  of  these  would  accept  any  part  of  the 
spoils  of  the  castle  of  Front  de  Boeuf.  The  Saxon 
franklin  answered  that  for  himself  he  was  rich  enough 
out  of  his  own  wealth  to  reward  his  followers.  The 
Black  Knight  asked  only  the  life  of  Maurice  de  Bracy, 


THE   SACK   OF  TORQUILSTONE  ic9 

whom  he  took  a  little  apart  and  dismissed  with  a  stern 
caution  as  to  his  future  behaviour.  Cedric,  on  the 
petition  of  Wamba  the  Jester,  freed  Gurth  the  swine- 
herd, because  he  had  so  well  tended  his  son.  He  be- 
came, therefore,  a  free  man  and  a  vassal  instead  of  a 
serf  and  a  slave. 

Before  the  feast  was  finished  the  Black  Knight  ac- 
cepted the  hunting  horn  of  Robin  Hood,  and  was  taught 
a  call  upon  it,  which,  said  the  outlaw,  might  in  some  day 
of  utmost  need,  rally  about  him  some  few  sturdy  comrades. 

"Better  help  than  thine  and  that  of  thy  rangers 
would  I  never  seek,"  the  Black  Knight  answered, 
"were  it  in  the  face  of  Death  itself!" 

The  Black  Knight  departed  alone  through  the  woods 
to  the  north.  Cedric  conveyed  Rowena  back  to  Rother- 
wood.  The  outlaws  were  left  with  the  Jew  Isaac  and  a 
new  prisoner  led  in  by  Friar  Tuck.  This  was  no  other 
than  Prior  Aymer  of  Jorvaux,  a  most  dignified  church- 
man, ready  to  curse  all  and  sundry  concerned  in  his 
capture. 

It  was  decided  that  the  Jew  and  he  should  name 
each  other's  ransoms.  Six  hundred  crowns  was  the 
amount  named  by  the  Jew  for  the  Prior.  The  Prior 
declared  that  the  Jew  could  easily  pay  a  thousand. 

"A  sentence!  A  sentence!  Solomon  could  not 
have  done  better!"  cried  the  outlaws,  laughing  aloud. 


no  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

But  Locksley,  or  rather  Robin  Hood,  was  touched 
by  the  grief  and  anxiety  of  the  Jew  for  his  lost  daughter. 
He  accepted,  therefore,  only  a  moderate  sum,  or  rather 
the  promise  of  it,  and  bade  Isaac  make  all  speed  to 
Templestowe,  where  he  might  possibly  be  able  to  buy 
his  daughter  back  for  a  heavy  ransom.  Nay  more, 
for  a  bag  of  silver  marks  and  the  promise  of  more,  the 
Prior  was  willing  to  write  a  letter  which  might  aid  the 
Jew  in  the  recovery  of  Rebecca. 

He  took  the  tablets  from  Isaac's  hand,  but,  struck 
with  a  sudden  scruple,  he  declared  that  rather  than  use 
the  pen  of  an  unbeliever  he  would  fast  for  twenty-four 
hours.  Locksley,  however,  proved  himself  as  usual 
equal  to  the  occasion.  He  bent  his  bow  and  aimed  a 
shaft  at  the  leading  goose  of  a  flock  which  was  winging 
its  way  overhead  down  to  the  distant  and  solitary  fens 
of  Holderness.  The  bird  came  fluttering  down,  trans- 
fixed by  the  arrow. 

"There,  Prior,"  said  the  outlaw,  "I  have  provided 
all  the  monks  of  your  abbey  with  pens  for  a  hundred 
years,  unless  they  take  to  writing  chronicles." 

So  without  more  ado  the  letter  to  the  Templar  was 
written  and  Isaac  of  York  went  on  his  way  with  it, 
somewhat  sadly,  it  must  be  owned.  For,  indeed,  he 
knew  not  what  awaited  himself  or  his  daughter  in  that 
abode  of  their  enemies. 


REBECCA'S    CHAMPION  in 

n.   REBECCA'S  CHAMPION 

When  Bois-Guilbert  reached  Templestowe  with 
Rebecca  and  his  Saracen  followers,  he  found  shelter 
indeed,  and  comparative  security.  The  Preceptory  of 
the  Knights  Templar  was  strong  beyond  any  power  of 
Saxon  outlaw  to  besiege.  But,  all  unwitting,  he  had 
fallen  into  a  far  greater  peril. 

For  Lucas  Beaumanoir,  the  Grand  Master  of  the 
Order  of  the  Temple,  had  arrived.  He  found  the 
Preceptories  of  his  Order  in  England  in  a  state  of  laxity 
and  confusion  that  deeply  shocked  him.  He  was  a 
severe  and  aged  man,  a  great  warrior  in  his  day,  but 
with  the  narrow  soul  of  a  persecuting  priest. 

Philip  Malvoisin,  the  Chief  of  the  Order  at  Temple- 
stowe, dared  not  tell  him  that  Bois-Guilbert  had  brought 
a  Jew  maiden  like  Rebecca  within  the  very  precincts 
of  the  fortress-abbey  itself.  Beaumanoir,  however, 
learned  the  matter  for  himself.  He  intercepted  the 
letter  which  Isaac  of  York  brought  from  Prior  Aymer 
to  Bois-Guilbert,  and,  pushing  his  right  of  Grand  Mas- 
ter to  its  limit,  he  opened  and  read  it. 

In  the  letter  so  hastily  written  with  the  grey-goose 
quill  under  the  eyes  of  Locksley,  the  Prior- spoke  of 
Rebecca  as  the  Witch  of  Endor,  and  as  the  Jewish 
sorceress  whose  black  eyes  had  bewitched  the  Knight 
Templar. 


ii2  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

These  careless  jesting  words  were  enough  to  kindle 
the  ever-smouldering  hatred  of  the  Grand  Master 
against  all  sorcery.  So,  hearing  that  Rebecca  had 
learned  the  art  of  healing  from  a  witch  —  one  of  those 
poor  old  women  who  had  been  condemned  and  exe- 
cuted for  working  magic,  Beaumanoir  immediately 
determined  that  Rebecca  also  should  be  tried  for  prac- 
tising diabolic  arts  upon  Bois-Guilbert,  and  thus  caus- 
ing him  to  break  the  rules  of  his  Order. 

To  be  tried  for  such  a  crime  before  a  fanatic  like  the 
Grand  Master  of  the  Temple  was  to  be  condemned, 
and  it  was  only  by  means  of  Bois-Guilbert  himself, 
who  succeeded  in  passing  a  paper  to  Rebecca,  that  she 
was  saved  from  an  immediate  death  by  fire.  Bois- 
Guilbert,  in  whose  breast  a  deep  and  sullen  anger 
against  the  Grand  Master  was  burning,  wrote  in  the 
Arabic  character  on  a  slip  of  paper,  "Demand  a 
champion!"  Doubtless  that  grain  of  good  which  re- 
mains in  the  heart  of  every  man,  however  evil,  moved 
him  to  do  this  in  order  that  he  might  gain  time  to  save 
Rebecca.  But  his  comrades  of  the  Order  made  his 
case  worse  than  before  by  moving  the  Grand  Master 
to  select  him  as  the  champion  of  the  Temple  against 
the  accused. 

Three  days  were  granted  Rebecca  for  the  appearance 
of  a  knight  willing  to  do  battle  for  her  life. 


REBECCA'S   CHAMPION  113 

One  Higg,  son  of  Snell,  a  poor  churl  whom  she  had 
cured  of  a  sore  disease  which  had  held  him  long  bed- 
ridden, volunteered,  though  maimed  and  lame,  to 
carry  a  letter  to  Rebecca's  father.  It  was  all  that  he 
could  do,  and  he  excused  him  to  his  fellows  by  saying 
that  he  did  not  believe  that  she  who  had  cured  his 
body  meant  any  harm  to  his  soul. 

This  mission  Higg,  son  of  Snell,  carried  out  like  the 
valiant  joiner  he  was.  Speeding  York-wards  on  the 
hired  work-horse  of  his  neighbour  Buthan,  Higg  met 
two  Jews  riding  southward.  He  knew  them  from  afar 
by  their  dress  and  their  huge  yellow  caps.  One  was  a 
certain  Rabbi,  a  learned  man,  and  the  other  no  other 
than  Isaac  of  York  himself.  At  the  first  sight  of  the 
letter  brought  at  such  peril  by  Higg,  son  of  Snell,  the 
Jew  fell  to  the  ground  insensible.  For  with  all  his 
heart,  though  not  with  all  his  gold  pieces,  Isaac  of 
York  loved  his  only  daughter  Rebecca. 

The  scroll  informed  him  that  she  was  condemned  to 
be  burned  at  the  stake  for  sorcery,  if  a  champion  could 
not  be  found  to  do  immediate  battle  for  her  at  Temple- 
stowe.  The  last  part  of  Rebecca's  letter  bade  her 
father  send  the  news  at  once  to  Ivanhoe,  whom  she 
had  nursed  while  a  prisoner  in  the  castle  of  Front  de 
Bceuf. 

"One  Nazarene  warrior  there  is  "  (so  Rebecca  wrote) 


ii4  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

"  who  might  indeed  bear  arms  on  my  behalf  — even  Wil- 
fred, son  of  Cedric.  But  he  may  not  yet  endure  the 
weight  of  his  armour.  Nevertheless,  send  the  tidings 
to  him,  my  father.  For  he  hath  favour  among  the 
strong  men  of  his  people  and  he  may  yet  find  some  one 
to  do  battle  for  my  sake.  Tell  him  that  I  am  wholly 
innocent,  whether  I  live  or  whether  I  die." 

The  Rabbi,  being  a  wise  man,  bade  Isaac  take  cour- 
age about  his  daughter.  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe  might 
indeed  help,  seeing  that  he  had  great  favour  in  the 
eyes  of  Richard  the  King,  who  was  certainly  on  his 
way  back  to  England.  "Besides,"  added  the  Rabbi, 
cunningly,  "with  gold  thou  canst  buy  the  valour  of  the 
Gentiles.  I  also  will  be  up  and  doing.  I  will  hie  me 
to  the  city  of  York,  where  many  warriors  and  strong 
men  are  assembled,  and  I  doubt  not  but  that  in  case  of 
need  I  will  find  some  one  to  do  battle  for  thy  daughter. 
Only  do  you  bear  me  out  in  the  matter  of  the  money  I 
shall  have  to  pay!" 

n*  1*  1*  1*  *f*  *f*  T* 

That  night  Rebecca,  alone  in  her  cell,  was  surprised 
by  a  visit  from  Bois-Guilbert.  At  sight  of  the  Templar 
she  shrank  back  as  having  been  the  cause  of  all  her 
troubles. 

However,  on  this  occasion  he  came  with  offers  of 


REBECCA'S   CHAMPION  115 

assistance,  freedom,  great  honour,  indeed,  if  Rebecca 
would  only  consent  to  cast  in  her  lot  with  his. 

He  declared  that  it  had  been  his  intention  to  come 
and  fight  for  her,  disguised  as  a  roving  knight  in  search 
of  adventures,  had  not  the  choice  of  the  Grand  Master 
fallen  upon  him  to  represent  the  Order. 

Rebecca  could  only  reply  that  all  was  now  too  late. 

"Still,"  said  the  Templar,  with  a  graver  earnestness 
than  he  had  yet  shown,  "I  am  ready  to  make  the  great 
sacrifices  for  your  sake.  None  have  ever  been  able 
to  withstand  me  in  the  lists  or  in  battle  —  except 
Richard  of  England  and  his  minion  Ivanhoe.  Of 
these  Ivanhoe  is  wounded  and  cannot  bear  arms,  while 
Richard  is  in  a  foreign  prison.  If  I  enter  the  lists 
against  you,  your  doom  is  sure.  But  I  need  not  enter 
them.  Rebecca,  for  your  sake  I  will  become  a  disgraced 
and  outcast  man.  I  will  renounce  my  highest  ambi- 
tions. I  will  go  to  Palestine,  where  Conrade  Marquis 
of  Montserrat  is  my  friend.  I  will  join  Saladin  if  no 
better  may  be.  For  you  I  will  hew  out  a  kingdom. 
You  shall  sit  on  its  throne  a  crowned  queen  !" 

But  Rebecca  refused,  steadfastly  and  calmly.  These 
were  but  dreams,  she  said,  but  even  if  true,  not  thus 
would  she  be  saved,  by  a  renegade  and  a  traitor  to  his 
own  Order  and  religion. 

"Then,"  retorted  the  Templar,  "if  you  will  not,  you 


u6  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

seal  your  own  doom.  Once  lance  in  rest  in  the  lists 
and  nothing  shall  move  me.  The  fiery  death  of  the 
condemned  sorceress  shall  be  yours,  instead  of  the 
happy  future  which  I  now  offer  you." 

"Even  so,  I  forgive  you,"  said  the  Jewish  maiden, 
"as  freely  as  ever  victim  forgave  her  executioner." 

The  Templar  went  out  deeply  moved,  and  it  was 
with  infinite  difficulty  that  the  Preceptor  Malvoisin 
kept  him  from  bearding  the  Grand  Master  on  his 
chair,  renouncing  his  vows,  and  demanding  to  be  per- 
mitted to  defend  instead  of  to  accuse  the  honour  and 
life  of  Rebecca. 

But  Malvoisin  soon  showed  Bois-Guilbert  that  this 
would  only  be  to  lose  himself  without  benefiting  Re- 
becca. He  would  certainly  be  treated  as  mad,  and 
thrust  into  a  dungeon  a  hundred  feet  under  ground. 
More  than  all  he  would  be  denounced  in  every  Chris- 
tian land  as  a  recreant  knight,  for  whom  not  even  the 
victim  that  he  had  thrown  away  all  for  had  any  pity 
or  gratitude.  This  last  argument  was  conclusive. 
The  third  day  would  find  Bois-Guilbert  in  the  lists 
to  do  battle  for  his  Order  against  the  sorceress. 

So  at  Templestowe  Rebecca  lay  waiting  death  or  a 
deliverer  till  the  third  day.  Then  at  the  appointed 


REBECCA'S   CHAMPION  117 

time  the  heavy  bell  of  the  church  of  St.  Michael's  of 
Templestowe  began  to  toll.  The  sullen  sounds  chilled 
the  hearts  of  the  multitude  assembled.  All  eyes  were 
turned  to  the  great  gate  of  the  castle,  expecting  the 
approach  of  the  Grand  Master,  the  champion,  and  the 
criminal. 

At  length  the  drawbridge  fell,  the  gates  opened,  and 
a  knight,  bearing  the  great  standard  of  the  Order, 
sallied  from  the  castle,  preceded  by  six  trumpets,  and 
followed  by  the  Knights  Preceptor,  two  by  two,  the 
Grand  Master  coming  last,  mounted  on  a  stately  horse, 
whose  furniture  was  of  the  simplest  kind.  Behind 
him  came  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert,  armed  cap-a-pie  in 
bright  armour,  but  without  his  lance,  shield,  and  sword, 
which  were  borne  by  his  two  esquires  behind  him. 
His  face,  though  partly  hidden  by  a  long  plume  which 
floated  down  from  his  barret-cap,  looked  ghastly  pale, 
as  if  he  had  not  slept  for  several  nights.  Yet  he  reined 
his  pawing  war-horse  with  the  ease  and  grace  proper 
to  the  best  lance  of  the  Order  of  the  Temple.  His 
general  appearance  was  noble  and  commanding;  but, 
looking  at  him  with  attention,  men  read  that  in  his 
dark  features  from  which  they  willingly  withdrew  their 
eyes. 

On  either  side  rode  Conrade  of  Mont-Fitchet  and 
Albert  de  Malvoisin,  who  acted  as  godfathers  to  the 


n8  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

champion.  They  were  in  their  robes  of  peace,  the 
white  dress  of  the  Order.  Behind  them  followed  other 
Companions  of  the  Temple,  with  a  long  train  of  esquires 
and  pages  clad  in  black,  aspirants  to  the  honour  of 
being  one  day  Knights  of  the  Order.  After  these 
neophytes  came  a  guard  of  warders  on  foot,  in  the  same 
sable  livery,  amidst  whose  partisans  might  be  seen  the 
pale  form  of  the  accused,  moving  with  a  slow  but 
undismayed  step  towards  the  scene  of  her  fate.  She 
was  stripped  of  all  her  ornaments,  lest  perchance  there 
should  be  among  them  some  of  those  amulets  which 
Satan  was  supposed  to  bestow  upon  his  victims,  to 
deprive  them  of  the  power  of  confession  even  when 
under  the  torture.  A  coarse  white  dress,  of  the  sim- 
plest form,  had  been  substituted  for  her  Oriental  orna- 
ments; yet  there  was  such  an  exquisite  mixture  of 
courage  and  resignation  in  her  look,  that  even  in  this 
garb,  and  with  no  other  ornament  than  her  long  black 
tresses,  each  eye  wept  that  looked  upon  her,  and  the 
most  hardened  bigot  regretted  her  fate. 

This  slow  procession  moved  up  the  gentle  eminence 
on  the  summit  of  which  was  the  tilt-yard,  and  entered 
the  lists.  They  marched  once  around  them  from 
right  to  left,  and,  when  they  had  completed  the  circle, 
made  a  halt.  There  was  then  a  momentary  bustle, 
while  the  Grand  Master  and  all  his  attendants,  ex- 


REBECCA'S   CHAMPION  119 

cepting  the  champion  and  his  godfathers,  dismounted 
from  their  horses,  which  were  immediately  removed 
out  of  the  lists  by  the  esquires,  who  were  in  attend- 
ance for  that  purpose. 

The  unfortunate  Rebecca  was  conducted  to  the 
black  chair  placed  near  the  pile.  On  her  first  glance 
at  the  terrible  spot  where  preparations  were  making 
for  a  death  alike  dismaying  to  the  mind  and  painful  to 
the  body,  she  was  observed  to  shudder  and  shut  her 
eyes,  praying  internally,  doubtless,  for  her  lips  moved, 
though  no  speech  was  heard.  In  the  space  of  a  minute 
she  opened  her  eyes,  looked  fixedly  on  the  pile  as  if  to 
familiarise  her  mind  with  the  object,  and  then  slowly 
and  naturally  turned  away  her  head. 

Meanwhile,  the  Grand  Master  had  assumed  his  seat, 
and  when  the  chivalry  of  his  Order  was  placed  around 
and  behind  him,  each  in  his  due  rank,  a  loud  and  long 
flourish  of  the  trumpets  announced  that  the  court  was 
seated  for  judgment.  Malvoisin,  then,  acting  as  god- 
father of  the  champion,  stepped  forward,  and  laid  the 
glove  of  the  Jewess,  which  was  the  pledge  of  battle, 
at  the  feet  of  the  Grand  Master. 

"Valorous  lord,  and  reverend  father,"  said  he, 
"here  standeth  the  good  knight,  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert, 
Knight  Preceptor  of  the  Order  of  the  Temple,  who, 
by  accepting  the  pledge  of  battle  which  I  now  lay  at 


120  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

your  reverence's  feet,  hath  become  bound  to  do  his 
devoir  in  combat  this  day,  to  maintain  that  this  Jewish 
maiden,  by  name  Rebecca,  hath  justly  deserved  the 
doom  passed  upon  her  in  a  chapter  of  this  most  Holy 
Order  of  the  Temple  of  Zion,  condemning  her  to  die 
as  a  sorceress;  here,  I  say,  he  standeth,  such  battle 
to  do,  knightly  and  honourable,  if  such  be  your  noble 
and  sanctified  pleasure." 

The  Grand  Master  commanded  the  herald  to  stand 
forth  and  do  his  devoir.  The  trumpets  then  again 
flourished,  and  a  herald,  stepping  forward,  proclaimed 
aloud  —  "Oyez,  oyez,  oyez.  Here  standeth  the  good 
knight,  Sir  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert,  ready  to  do  battle 
with  any  knight  of  free  blood  who  will  sustain  the 
quarrel  allowed  and  allotted  to  the  Jewess  Rebecca, 
and  to  such  champion  the  reverend  and  valorous 
Grand  Master  here  present  allows  a  fair  field,  and 
equal  partition  of  sun  and  wind,  and  whatever  else 
appertains  to  a  fair  combat."  The  trumpets  again 
sounded,  and  there  was  a  dead  pause  of  many  minutes. 

"No  champion  appears  for  the  appellant,"  said  the 
Grand  Master.  "Go,  herald,  and  ask  her  whether 
she  expects  any  one  to  do  battle  for  her  in  this  her 
cause."  The  herald  went  to  the  chair  in  which  Re- 
becca was  seated,  and  Bois-Guilbert,  suddenly  turning 
his  horse's  head  toward  that  end  of  the  lists,  in  spite 


REBECCA'S   CHAMPION  121 

of  hints  on  either  side  from  Malvoisin  and  Mont- 
Fitchet,  was  by  the  side  of  Rebecca's  chair  as  soon  as 
the  herald. 

"Is  this  regular,  and  according  to  the  law  of  com- 
bat?" said  Malvoisin,  looking  to  the  Grand  Master. 

"Albert  de  Malvoisin,  it  is,"  answered  Beaumanoir; 
"for  in  this  appeal  to  the  judgment  of  God,  we  may 
not  prohibit  parties  from  having  that  communication 
with  each  other  which  may  best  tend  to  bring  forth 
the  truth  of  the  quarrel." 

In  the  meantime,  the  herald  spoke  to  Rebecca  in 
these  terms:  "Damsel,  the  Honourable  and  Rev- 
erend the  Grand  Master  demands  of  thee,  if  thou  art 
prepared  with  a  champion  to  do  battle  this  day  in  thy 
behalf,  or  if  thou  dost  yield  thee  as  one  justly  con- 
demned to  a  deserved  doom?" 

"Say  to  the  Grand  Master,"  replied  Rebecca,  "that 
I  maintain  my  innocence,  and  do  not  yield  me  as 
justly  condemned  lest  I  become  guilty  of  mine  own 
blood.  Say  to  him  that  I  challenge  such  delay  as  his 
forms  will  permit,  to  see  if  God,  whose  opportunity 
is  in  man's  extremity,  will  raise  me  up  a  deliverer; 
and  when  such  uttermost  space  is  passed,  may  His 
holy  will  be  done!"  The  herald  retired  to  carry  this 
answer  to  the  Grand  Master. 

"God  forbid,"  said  Lucas  Beaumanoir,  "that  Jew 


122  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

or  pagan  should  impeach  us  of  injustice.  Until  the 
shadows  be  cast  from  the  west  to  the  eastward,  will 
we  wait  to  see  if  a  champion  shall  appear  for  this 
unfortunate  woman.  When  the  day  is  so  far  passed, 
let  her  prepare  for  death." 

The  herald  communicated  the  words  of  the  Grand 
Master  to  Rebecca,  who  bowed  her  head  submis- 
sively, folded  her  arms,  and,  looking  up  towards  heaven, 
seemed  to  expect  that  aid  from  above  which  she 
could  scarce  promise  herself  from  man.  During  this 
awful  pause,  the  voice  of  Bois-Guilbert  broke  upon 
her  ear  —  it  was  but  a  whisper,  yet  it  startled  her 
more  than  the  summons  of  the  herald  had  appeared 
to  do. 

"Rebecca,"  said  the  Templar,  "dost  thou  hear  me?" 

"I  have  no  portion  in  thee,  cruel,  hard-hearted 
man,"  said  the  unfortunate  maiden. 

"Ay,  but  dost  thou  understand  my  words?"  said 
the  Templar;  "for  the  sound  of  my  voice  is  frightful 
in  mine  own  ears.  I  scarce  know  on  what  ground  we 
stand,  or  for  what  purpose  they  have  brought  us  hither. 
This  listed  space  —  that  chair  —  these  faggots  —  I 
know  their  purpose,  and  yet  it  appears  to  me  like 
something  unreal  —  the  fearful  picture  of  a  vision, 
which  appalls  my  sense  with  hideous  fantasies,  but 
convinces  not  my  reason." 


REBECCA'S   CHAMPION  123 

"My  mind  and  senses  keep  touch  and  time,"  an- 
swered Rebecca,  "and  tell  me  alike  that  these  faggots 
are  destined  to  consume  my  earthly  body,  and  open 
a  painful  but  a  brief  passage  to  a  better  world." 

"Dreams,  Rebecca  —  dreams,"  answered  the  Tem- 
plar ;  "idle  visions,  rejected  by  the  wisdom  of  your  own 
wiser  Sadducees.  Hear  me,  Rebecca,"  he  said,  pro- 
ceeding with  animation;  "a  better  chance  hast  thou 
for  life  and  liberty  than  yonder  knaves  and  dotard 
dream  of.  Mount  thee  behind  me  on  my  steed  —  on 
Zamor,  the  gallant  horse  that  never  failed  his  rider. 
I  won  him  in  single  fight  from  the  Soldan  of  Trebizond 
—  mount,  I  say,  behind  me  —  in  one  short  hour  is 
pursuit  and  inquiry  far  behind  —  a  new  world  of 
pleasure  opens  to  thee  —  to  me  a  new  career  of  fame. 
Let  them  speak  the  doom  which  I  despise,  and  erase 
the  name  of  Bois-Guilbert  from  their  lists  of  monastic 
slaves  !  I  will  wash  out  with  blood  whatever  blot  they 
may  dare  to  cast  on  my  scutcheon." 

"Tempter,"  said  Rebecca,  "begone!  Not  in  this 
last  extremity  canst  thou  move  me  one  hair's  breadth 
from  my  resting  place  —  surrounded  as  I  am  by  foes. 
I  hold  thee  as  my  worst  and  most  deadly  enemy  — 
avoid  thee,  in  the  name  of  God!" 

Albert  Malvoisin,  alarmed  and  impatient  at  the  dura- 
tion of  their  conference,  now  advanced  to  interrupt  it. 


i24  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

'  "Hath  the  maiden  acknowledged  her  guilt?"  he 
demanded  of  Bois-Guilbert,  "or  is  she  resolute  in  her 
denial?" 

"She  is  indeed  resolute,"  said  Bois-Guilbert. 

"Then,"  said  Malvoisin,  "must  thou,  noble  brother, 
resume  thy  place  to  attend  the  issue.  The  shades  are 
changing  on  the  circle  of  the  dial.  Come,  brave  Bois- 
Guilbert  —  come,  thou  hope  of  our  holy  Order,  and 
soon  to  be  its  head." 

As  he  spoke  in  this  soothing  tone,  he  laid  his  hand  on 
the  knight's  bridle,  as  if  to  lead  him  back  to  his  station. 

"False  villain!  what  meanest  thou  by  thy  hand  on 
my  rein?"  said  Sir  Brian,  angrily.  And,  shaking  off 
his  companion's  grasp,  he  rode  back  to  the  upper  end 
of  the  lists. 

"There  is  yet  spirit  in  him,"  said  Malvoisin  apart 
to  Mont-Fitchet,  "were  it  well  directed  —  but,  like  the 
Greek  fire,  it  burns  whatever  approaches  it." 

The  judges  had  been  now  two  hours  in  the  lists, 
awaiting  in  vain  the  appearance  of  a  champion. 

It  was,  however,  the  general  belief  that  no  one  could 
or  would  appear  for  a  Jewess  accused  of  sorcery ;  and 
the  knights,  instigated  by  Malvoisin,  whispered  to 
each  other  that  it  was  time  to  declare  the  pledge  of 
Rebecca  forfeited.  At  this  instant  a  knight,  urging 
his  horse  to  speed,  appeared  on  the  plain  advancing 


REBECCA'S   CHAMPION  125 

toward  the  lists.  A  hundred  voices  exclaimed,  "A 
champion!  a  champion!"  And,  despite  the  prepos- 
sessions and  prejudices  of  the  multitude,  they  shouted 
unanimously  as  the  knight  rode  into  the  tilt-yard. 
The  second  glance,  however,  served  to  destroy  the 
hope  that  his  timely  arrival  had  excited.  His  horse, 
urged  for  many  miles  to  its  utmost  speed,  appeared  to 
reel  from  fatigue,  and  the  rider,  however  undauntedly 
he  presented  himself  in  the  lists,  either  from  weakness, 
weariness,  or  both,  seemed  scarce  able  to  support 
himself  in  the  saddle. 

To  the  summons  of  the  herald  who  demanded  his 
rank,  his  name,  and  purpose,  the  stranger  knight  an- 
swered readily  and  boldly,  "I  am  a  good  knight  and 
noble,  come  hither  to  sustain  with  lance  and  sword  the 
just  and  lawful  quarrel  of  this  damsel,  Rebecca, 
daughter  of  Isaac  of  York;  to  uphold  the  doom  pro- 
nounced against  her  to  be  false  and  truthless,  and  to 
defy  Sir  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert,  as  a  traitor,  murderer, 
and  liar;  as  I  will  prove  in  this  field  with  my  body 
against  his,  by  the  aid  of  God,  of  Our  Lady,  and  of 
Monseigneur  Saint  George,  the  good  knight." 

"The  stranger  must  first  show,"  said  Malvoisin, 
"that  he  is  good  knight,  and  of  honourable  lineage. 
The  Temple  sendeth  not  forth  her  champions  against 
nameless  men." 


i26  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"My  name,"  said  the  knight,  raising  his  helmet, 
"is  better  known,  my  lineage  more  pure,  Malvoisin, 
than  thine  own.  I  am  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe." 

"I  will  not  fight  with  thee  at  present,"  said  the 
Templar,  in  a  changed  and  hollow  voice.  "Get  thy 
wounds  healed,  purvey  thee  a  better  horse,  and  it  may 
be  I  will  hold  it  worth  my  while  to  scourge  out  of  thee 
this  boyish  spirit  of  bravado." 

"Ha,  proud  Templar!"  said  Ivanhoe;  "hast  thou 
forgotten  that  twice  didst  thou  fall  before  this  lance-? 
Remember  the  lists  at  Acre  —  remember  the  passage  of 
arms  at  Ashby  —  remember  thy  proud  vaunt  in  the 
halls  of  Rotherwood,  and  the  gage  of  your  gold  chain 
against  my  reliquary,  that  thou  wouldst  do  battle  with 
Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe,  and  recover  the  honour  thou  hadst 
lost !  By  that  reliquary,  and  the  holy  relic  it  contains, 
I  will  proclaim  thee,  Templar,  a  coward  in  every  court 
in  Europe  —  unless  thou  do  battle  without  further 
delay." 

Bois-Guilbert  turned  his  countenance  irresolutely 
towards  Rebecca,  and  then  exclaimed,  looking  fiercely 
at  Ivanhoe,  "Dog  of  a  Saxon!  take  thy  lance,  and 
prepare  for  the  death  thou  hast  drawn  upon  thee!" 

"Does  the  Grand  Master  allow  me  the  combat?" 
said  Ivanhoe. 

"I  may  not  deny  what  thou  hast  challenged,"  said 


REBECCA'S   CHAMPION  127 

the  Grand  Master,  "provided  the  maiden  accepts  thee 
as  her  champion.  Yet  I  would  thou  wert  in  better 
plight  to  do  battle.  An  enemy  of  our  Order  hast  thou 
ever  been,  yet  would  I  have  thee  honourably  met  with." 

"Thus  —  thus  as  I  am,  and  not  otherwise,"  said 
Ivanhoe;  "it  is  the  judgment  of  God  —  to  his  keeping 
I  commend  myself.  Rebecca,"  said  he,  riding  up 
to  the  fatal  chair,  "dost  thou  accept  of  me  for  thy 
champion?" 

"I  do,"  she  said,  fluttered  by  an  emotion  which  the 
fear  of  death  had  been  unable  to  produce,  "  I  do 
accept  thee  as  the  champion  whom  Heaven  hath 
sent  me.  Yet,  no  —  no  —  thy  wounds  are  uncured. 
Meet  not  that  proud  man  —  why  shouldst  thou  perish 
also?" 

But  Ivanhoe  was  already  at  his  post,  and  had  closed 
his  visor  and  assumed  his  lance.  Bois-Guilbert  did 
the  same;  and  his  esquire  remarked,  as  he  clasped 
his  visor,  that  his  face,  which  had,  notwithstanding 
the  variety  of  emotions  by  which  he  had  been  agitated, 
continued  during  the  whole  morning  of  an  ashy  paleness, 
was  now  become  suddenly  very  much  flushed. 

Then  the  herald,  seeing  each  champion  in  his  place, 
uplifted  his  voice,  repeating  thrice  —  "Faites  vos  de- 
voirs, preux  chevaliers!"  After  the  third  cry  he  with- 
drew to  one  side  of  the  lists,  and  again  proclaimed  that 


128  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

none,  on  peril  of  instant  death,  should  dare,  by  word, 
cry,  or  action,  to  interfere  with  or  disturb  this  fair  field 
of  combat.  The  Grand  Master,  who  held  in  his 
hand  the  gage  of  battle,  Rebecca's  glove,  now  threw  it 
into  the  lists,  and  pronounced  the  fatal  signal  words, 
" Laissez  otter" 

The  trumpets  sounded,  and  the  knights  charged 
each  other  in  full  career.  The  wearied  horse  of 
Ivanhoe,  and  its  no  less  exhausted  rider,  went  down, 
as  all  had  expected,  before  the  well-aimed  lance  and 
vigorous  steed  of  the  Templar.  This  issue  of  the  com- 
bat all  had  foreseen ;  but  although  the  spear  of  Ivanhoe 
did  but,  in  comparison,  touch  the  shield  of  Bois- 
Guilbert,  that  champion,  to  the  astonishment  of  all 
who  beheld  it,  reeled  in  his  saddle,  lost  his  stirrups, 
and  fell  in  the  lists. 

Ivanhoe,  extricating  himself  from  his  fallen  horse, 
was  soon  on  foot,  hastening  to  mend  his  fortune  with 
his  sword;  but  his  antagonist  arose  not.  Wilfred, 
placing  his  foot  on  his  breast,  and  the  sword's  point 
to  his  throat,  commanded  him  to  yield  him,  or  die  on 
the  spot.  Bois-Guilbert  returned  no  answer. 

"Slay  him  not,  Sir  Knight,"  cried  the  Grand  Master, 
"unshriven  and  unabsolved  —  kill  not  body  and  soul! 
We  allow  him  vanquished." 

He  descended  into  the  lists,  and  commanded  them 


CONCLUSION  129 

to  unhelm  the  conquered  champion.  His  eyes  were 
closed,  —  the  dark  red  flush  was  still  on  his  brow. 
As  they  looked  on  him  in  astonishment,  the  eyes  opened 
—  but  they  were  fixed  and  glazed.  The  flush  passed 
from  his  brow,  and  gave  way  to  the  pallid  hue  of  death. 
Unscathed  by  the  lance  of  his  enemy,  he  had  died 
a  victim  to  the  violence  of  his  own  contending  passions. 

"This  is  indeed  the  judgment  of  God,"  said  the 
Grand  Master,  looking  upwards  —  "Thy  will  be  done  1 " 

******  * 

III.    CONCLUSION 

Meanwhile  King  Richard  had  had  an  opportunity 
of  testing  the  value  of  Robin  Hood's  gift.  With  his 
usual  carelessness  he  had  ridden  away  towards  the  city 
of  York,  sure  that  the  rebellion  of  his  ungrateful  brother 
John  could  not  stand  for  a  moment  before  his  presence. 

But  on  the  way  he  fell  into  a  trap.  The  traitor 
Fitzurse  and  his  men-at-arms  beset  him  in  the  woods, 
crying,  "Death  to  the  tyrant!"  The  King,  as  ever, 
fought  splendidly,  striking  down  an  opponent  at  each 
single  uplift  of  the  axe.  But  a  knight  in  blue  armour 
charged  from  behind,  and  wounded  the  royal  charger, 
bringing  the  King  to  the  ground. 

"A  felon  stroke!"  cried  Richard,  springing  nimbly 
to  his  feet,  and  drawing  his  sword  to  defend  himself, 


I3o  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

his  back  to  a  great  oak.  Wamba,  who  alone  had 
accompanied  him  on  his  journey,  now  got  possession 
of  Locksley's  hunting-horn  and,  without  more  ado, 
blew  most  lustily  upon  it  the  prearranged  call  for 
assistance.  The  outlaws  heard  it,  and  came  rushing 
to  the  King's  assistance.  So  stoutly  did  they  fight 
that  very  soon  the  traitors  fled,  and  their  leader  Fitzurse 
was  left  alone  on  the  field  to  answer  for  his  treachery. 

After  this  failure  the  rebellion  melted  away.  Prince 
John  came  posting  from  York,  whimpering  at  the  knees 
of  the  brother  whom  he  had  wronged.  Yet  all  that 
Richard  said  to  him  was  only,  "Go  to  thy  mother,  boy. 
Thou  seest  that  I  have  some  angry  men  with  me  who 
might  do  thee  a  hurt!" 

So  by  Cedric's  permission  and  with  his  approval, 
Ivanhoe  wedded  the  fair  Saxon  Princess  Rowena,  in 
the  minster  of  York,  Gurth  acting  as  his  squire,  and 
Wamba  jesting  gaily  as  became  the  occasion,  in  a 
brand-new  set  of  cap-and-bells  with  motley  to  suit. 

One  morning  soon  after,  while  Rowena  was  still  in 
her  chamber,  a  handmaiden  brought  word  that  there 
was  a  damsel  below  who  desired  to  speak  with  her. 
She  was  accordingly  brought  up,  and  as  soon  as  Eligitha, 
the  handmaiden,  had  been  ordered  to  withdraw,  she 
fell  on  one  knee  and  kissed  the  hem  of  Rowena's  tunic. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  homage  to  me?"  said 


CONCLUSION  131 

the  princess.  Rebecca  the  Jewess  rose  to  her  feet  and, 
throwing  back  her  veil,  she  answered,  "  Because  to  you, 
Lady  of  Ivanhoe,  I  may  lawfully  pay  the  debt  of 
gratitude  I  owe  to  Wilfred  your  husband.  I  am  the 
unhappy  Jewess  whom  he  saved  from  a  fearful  death  in 
the  tilting  yard  of  Templestowe." 

"Damsel,"  said  Rowena,  "Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe  but 
rendered  back  in  a  slight  measure  your  great  kindness 
towards  him  in  his  wounds  and  misfortunes." 

Rebecca  then  asked  Rowena  to  accept  a  little  silver 
casket  with  its  contents  as  a  marriage  gift.  The  prin- 
cess, opening  it,  found  therein  a  magnificent  necklace  of 
diamonds.  At  first  she  would  not  accept  so  valuable 
a  gift.  But  Rebecca  besought  her,  saying,  "Let  it  be 
seen  that  you  judge  not  so  harshly  of  our  nation,  as  is 
the  common  report  of  you.  Think  not  that  I  prize 
such  sparkling  stones  above  my  liberty,  or  my  father 
above  the  honour  of  his  child.  Accept  them,  lady ! 
To  me  they  are  valueless.  I  shall  never  wear  jewels 
again ! " 

"You  are,  then,  leaving  England?"  asked  the 
princess. 

"We  go  to  place  ourselves  in  the  Kingdom  of  Gra- 
nada, where  my  father's  brother  is  high  in  the  councils 
of  King  Boabadil.  There  we  shall  have  peace  and 
protection,  whilst  I  —  I  shall  devote  myself  to  the  good 


i32  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

work  of  tending  the  sick  and  needy,  as  is  the  fate  of 
our  maidens  who  die  unwedded.  Tell  this  to  your 
lord,  if  by  chance  he  should  ever  inquire  after  the  fate 
of  her  whose  life  he  saved." 

Afterwards  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe  became  a  great  lord 
in  the  service  of  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart,  and  he 
and  Rowena  lived  a  long  life  happily  together.  But 
he  never  forgot  Rebecca,  the  beautiful  Jewess  who  had 
nursed  him  in  the  dungeons  of  Torquilstone,  and  for 
whom,  still  weak  with  sickness,  he  had  laid  lance  in 
rest  in  a  last  forlorn  hope  within  the  lists  of  Temple- 
stowe. 


The  close  of  the  Last  Tale  from  Ivanhoe  was 
greeted  with  few  of  the  signs  of  favour  which  had  wel- 
comed the  Siege  of  Torquilstone,  the  Gentle  Passage 
of  Arms  at  Ashby,  and  the  Famous  Shooting  of  Cleave- 
the-wand.  As  always,  young  and  old  of  my  audience 
preferred  the  End  Sentimental  to  the  End  Profit- 
able. 

"Um-m-m-m!"  said  Hugh  John,  elevating  his  nose 
in  the  air,  "just  like  a  hero  —  lay  about  sick  all  the 
time  and  then,  when  he  had  a  ripping  chance  at  last, 
instead  of  whacking  the  Templar  over  the  head  and 


CONCLUSION  133 

killing  him  good,  he  let  him  die  'a  victim  to  his  con- 
tending passions'  — whatever  that  may  be." 

"Why,  Athelstane  did  better  than  that,"  said  Sir 
Toady  Lion;  "he  fought  like  a  lion  and  went  down 
cloven  to  the  teeth  — " 

"Oh,  but,  father,  Sir  Walter  says  that  Athelstane  — " 
began  Sweetheart,  who  had  been  reading  the  book  "on 
the  sly,"  as  the  boys  said  —  so  as  to  be  "bucked  up 
and  horrid  superior,  pretending  to  know  more  than 
we  do !" 

Rather  more  briskly  than  I  ought,  perhaps,  I  told 
Sweetheart  to  hold  her  tongue.  Athelstane  was  a 
tabooed  subject.  You  had  to  read  the  book,  and  find 
out  about  him. 

Indeed  I  had  not  dared  to  retail  the  too  marvellous 
resurrection  of  the  brawny  Saxon.  I  knew  it  would 
not  be  well  received  by  the  Butcher  Donnan,  who  was 
accustomed  to  make  a  clean  job  of  his  own  little  affairs, 
and  would  have  despised  the  Templar  forever  after  if 
his  weapon  had  turned  in  his  hand. 

"That  Ivan  How,"  said  Mr.  Donnan,  rubbing  his 
solidly  moulded,  well-scraped  chin  with  his  fore-finger, 
thoughtfully,  "that  there  Ivan  How.  He  done  his 
best  at  the  fightin',  and  I  don't  say  he  wasn't  right  to 
marry  one  of  his  own  sort.  Quality  will  to  quality  — 
that's  right  enough  — " 


i34  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  burst  out  with  strong 
emphasis  — 

"But  —  if  it  had  been  ME!" 

And  that,  after  all,  is  the  general,  the  almost  universal, 
verdict.  Time  and  a  myriad  of  readers  have  reversed 
the  verdict  upon  appeal.  And  if  we  had  our  way  — 
which  it  is  well  that  we  have  not  —  Rowena  would  have 
wedded  her  fitting  mate,  that  other  dull  descendant  of 
Alfred  —  while  Rebecca,  the  Jewess,  baptized  and 
ennobled,  would  have  held  Ivanhoe's  hand  in  the  minster 
of  York. 

"It  is  such  a  pity!"  said  Sweetheart,  summing  up 
the  situation  with  a  long-drawn  sigh. 

And  there  was  no  more  to  be  said. 


THE  END  OF  THE  RED  CAP  TALES  FROM  "iVANHOE 


RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

TOLD  FROM 

THE   FORTUNES   OF   NIGEL 


II 

THE   FORTUNES   OF  NIGEL 

BY  this  time  I  felt  that  the  stories  from  Sir  Walter 
ought  to  be  beginning  to  bear  their  fruit.  For  more 
than  a  year,  at  intervals  determined  by  school  vacations, 
and  the  ardour  of  youth  to  display  itself  in  field  sports, 
I  had  been  laboriously  retelling  the  great  tales. 

From  my  audience  I  had  indeed  received  the  most 
flattering  signs  of  success.  But  —  had  they  read  Scott 
the  more  ?  Well,  Sweetheart  had  —  though  the  boys 
cast  it  in  her  teeth  on  numberless  occasions  that  she 
only  read  on  ahead,  so  as  to  be  able  to  show,  by  various 
nods  and  becks  and  wreathed  smiles,  that  she  was  "in 
the  know." 

But  boys  —  ours  at  any  rate  —  will  say  anything, 
if  by  saying  it  they  can  annoy  their  sisters.  Of  course, 
they  are  singular  in  this,  different  from  other  boys. 
Only,  you  see,  the  thing  is  for  girls  not  to  be  annoyed, 
and  this  Sweetheart  had  learned  at  school. 

She  had  gone  there  with  the  most  philanthropic  ideas 
of  being  kind  to  every  one,  of  having  all  and  sundry  be 

'37 


138  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

kind  to  her,  and  she  had  come  away  with  a  very  good 
notion  of  keeping  things  square  by  giving  as  good  as 
she  got  —  an  imperfect  method  for  Christian  martyrs, 
but  rather  practical,  as  against  two  such  aggressive 
brothers  as  Hugh  John  and  Sir  Toady  Lion.  Maid 
Margaret,  who  looked  so  sweet  (and  sometimes  even 
said  "please"),  needed  no  school  to  teach  her.  She 
used  her  natural  weapons,  especially  those  fitted  with 
neat  round-toed  boots,  with  great  effect  against  the 
enemy.  She  had  not  yet  got  as  far  as  "Christian 
Martyrs"  in  her  history  book. 

One  wet  afternoon  the  children  were  in  the  library. 
The  boys,  as  usual,  were  prone  on  the  floor,  poring 
over  the  sets  of  Graphics  and  the  Illustrated  London 
News  —  which  is  their  idea  of  what  a  library  should 
contain.  Sweetheart  was  curled  up  on  a  sofa,  eating 
an  orange,  reading  and  gazing  out  at  the  window  all 
at  one  and  the  same  time  —  or  so  at  least  it  appeared 
to  me. 

Maid  Margaret  unaffectedly  yawned,  and  drummed 
on  the  rain-battered  library  panes  with  her  fingers. 
It  seemed  a  propitious  moment  for  me  to  make  my 
proposal. 

"See,  here,"  I  said,  "I  suppose  you  are  all  fearfully 
rich?" 

I  had  reason  to  know  the  contrary,  owing  to  the  recent 


THE   FORTUNES   OF   NIGEL  139 

plague  of  birthdays  which  always  rages  under  the  July 
dog-star. 

"No !"  they  chorussed,  the  boys  springing  up  from 
their  prone  position  to  do  it.  "We  are  just  fearful 
poor!" 

The  adjective  was  not  a  proper  one,  used  adverb- 
ially, but  was  allowed  to  pass  under  the  circumstances. 

"Do  any  of  you  want  to  earn  money?" 

"Just  don't  we  ?    Tell  us  how,  that's  all !" 

A  more  suddenly  industrious,  but  rather  unthrifty, 
family,  you  could  not  have  seen  without  going  miles. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "see  here;  each  of  you  can  take  a 
book  of  Sir  Walter's  —  any  one  you  like ;  read  it,  and 
tell  the  story  to  the  others  in  your  own  fashion!" 

I  could  see  the  faces  of  the  boys  swiftly  darken,  while 
Sweetheart's  lighted  up  with  a  great  and  sudden  joy. 
As  for  Maid  Margaret,  she  resumed  her  drumming  on 
the  window-pane  like  one  who  has  neither  art  nor  part 
in  these  things. 

But  even  for  her,  there  arose  a  light  in  the  gloom  of 
hopes  (financial)  deferred. 

"Can  I  have  Ellie  to  read  the  book  —  and  then  me 
tell  it?"  she  inquired. 

This  the  boys  considered  "not  fair."  Their  objec- 
tion was  however  overruled  on  the  ground  of  age. 
Maid  Margaret  was  only  beginning  to  struggle  with 


i4o  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

words  of  two  syllables,  and  the  handicap  would  have 
been  quite  too  great,  thus  to  compel  her  to  read  the 
whole  for  herself. 

"If,"  said  I,  laying  down  the  Code  Napoleon  of  the 
affair,  "you  tell  such  a  story  as  the  others  will  listen  to, 
half  an  hour  in  length,  I'll  give  you  a  prize  like  the 
others!" 

"To  do  what  I  like  with?" 

"Certainly!" 

"Snacks!"  cried  the  boys,  simultaneously;  "I  bag 
•Ivanhoe'l" 

"Won't  do,"  said  Sweetheart;  "why,  you've  only 
just  been  told  that  story,  and  you  have  been  playing  it 
for  weeks,  along  with  Nipper  Donnan  and  the  other 
boys  of  Edam." 

"  Certainly ;  you  must  take  one  of  the  Waverley  novels 
which  has  not  been  told  before,  read  it,  make  one  or 
more  stories  out  of  it  —  and  I  will  give  them  one  golden 
sovereign  for  each  that  is  good  enough  to  print!" 

"Oh !"  said  Sir  Toady  Lion,  "but  that's  not  fair  — 
you  get  more  than  that !" 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  said  sharply;  "but  there's  your  food 
and  clothing  and  schooling  to  pay  for,  young  gentle- 
man —  besides  one  or  two  other  things  which,  if  lucky, 
you  will  find  out  in  due  time  for  yourself !" 

The  reply  silenced,  but,  I  fear,  failed  to  convince  — 


THE   FORTUNES   OF   NIGEL  141 

as  is  so  often  the  case  when  the  arguments  of  experience 
are  supplied  to  youth. 

Still,  as  the  family  went  to  sleep  that  night,  there 
shone  before  the  eyes  of  each  member  a  book  written 
by  a  certain  Walter  Scott,  and  in  the  centre,  instead  of 
the  well-known  lineaments  of  the  author  of  Waverley, 
the  image  and  ^superscription  of  H.  M.  Edward  VII, 
done  in  pure  minted  gold,  and  surrounded  with  an 
aureole ! 

Yet  his  present  Gracious  Majesty  did  not  write  the 
Waverley  novels ! 


It  was  with  a  particularly  peaceful  smile  that  Sweet- 
heart stole  away  to  bed  that  night.  She  had  visited 
the  shelf  of  "Scotts,"  and  carried  off  one,  quite  obvi- 
ously secreted  about  her  person.  Of  course  the  boys 
had  first  to  quarrel  about  first  choice,  pillow-fight  it 
out  in  the  privacy  of  their  chamber,  and  then  start  in 
a  good  day.  after  the  fair.  As  for  Maid  Margaret, 
what  she  was  going  to  do,  rested  a  profound  secret  — 
so  profound  indeed  that  she  did  not  know  herself. 
She,  however,  took  council  with  a  certain  domestic 
good  genius,  who,  after  stopping  the  pillow-fight  and 
seeing  that  "all  was  quiet  along  the  Potomac,"  stopped 
before  the  Waverley  shelf,  and  regarded  the  volumes 


142  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

with  the  same  grave  attention  she  is  wont  to  bestow 
upon  a  sermon  by  her  favourite  preacher. 
What  she  took  away  will  afterwards  be  manifest. 

It  was  of  course  a  foregone  conclusion  that  long  before 
the  others  were  halfway  through  their  chosen  book  — 
even  by  the  aid  of  vigorous  skipping,  Sweetheart  was 
ready  with  her  narrative. 

Hugh  John  and  Sir  Toady  Lion  reclaimed  a  superior 
price  for  their  articles  "because  she's  always  telling  us 
stories."  Therefore,  according  to  them  it  would  come 
easier. 

However,  I  declined  to  penalise  Sweetheart  for  her 
goodness  to  the  very  ingrates  who  now  lodged  the 
complaint. 

Sweetheart,  a  little  eager  about  the  eyes,  but  other- 
wise calm,  clasped  her  hand  about  one  knee  and  was 
ready  to  begin.  For  me,  I  had  a  notebook  in  one 
hand,  a  pencil  in  the  other  —  while  the  audience,  pic- 
turesquely disposed  about  the  carpet,  prepared  itself 
to  listen  to  the  narrative  in  a  purposely  fatigued  man- 
ner. You  see  there  were  others  to  come  after  —  in  a 
future  more  or  less  remote,  and  these  were  not  pre- 
cisely the  sort  of  young  men  to  depreciate  the  value  of 
their  own  merchandise. 

Sweetheart  began  in  the  easy  conversational  tone  of 


THE  FORTUNES   OF  NIGEL  143 

the  practised  tale-teller.  The  first  Golden  Edward 
was  as  good  as  her  own  already  —  perhaps  others 
similarly  minted,  a  regular  royal  procession  of  milled 
sovereigns. 

"Go  on,  Sis!"  said  Hugh  John;  "and  mind,  if  we 
don't  like  it,  we  have  got  the  right  to  say  so !" 

"No,  only  father  has!"  said  Sweetheart,  unsweetly; 
"you  mind  your  own  business!" 

"Say  'please'!"  added  Maid  Margaret,  who  had 
so  often  been  caught  out  for  forgetting,  that  she  now 
went  about  catching  other  sinners  by  omission. 

"Go  on,  Sweetheart,"  I  said;  "don't  mind  any  of 
them  —  they  will  be  sorry  when  you  get  your  pay !" 

"Oh,  no,  7  won't!"  called  out  Sir  Toady,  who  was 
finishing  a  sketch  of  a  weasel  and  a  crow  disputing 
rights  to  a  dead  rabbit.  This  was  such  unwonted  and 
surprising  magnanimity,  that  I  asked  the  youth  why  he 
would  not  grudge  his  sister  her  golden  sovereign. 

"Because,"  he  said,  as  he  put  in  the  shading  with 
care,  "my  birthday  comes  next!" 

"Well,"  said  Sweetheart,  "what  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  about  is 

THE  FORTUNES  or  NIGEL." 

And  accordingly,  following  my  notebook,  this  is 
something  like  the  way  she  told  it. 


144  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

THE  FIRST  TALE  FROM  "THE  FORTUNES  OF 

NIGEL" 

MASTER  AND  MAN 

IT  was  in  the  time  after  King  James  VI  of  Scot- 
land had  become  King  James  I  of  England.  Many 
Scots  went  to  London  to  seek  their  fortune,  and  some 
were  good,  and  some  were  middling,  and  some  were 
bad.  Yes,  they  were;  you  need  not  deny  it,  boys. 
But  nearly  all  of  them  had  long  swords,  and  the  tick- 
lish honour  which  was  ready  to  make  the  long  swords 
spring  out  of  the  battered  scabbards.  They  were  all 
kinsfolk,  too,  or  so  at  least  they  said.  And  so,  partly 
because  they  were  poor  and  partly  because  they  let 
nothing  stand  in  the  way  of  their  advancement  in 
the  world,  the  Londoners,  and  especially  those  who 
served  the  court,  heartily  detested  them. 

Now  there  was  a  fine  handsome  young  Scottish  lord 
who  came  to  London  also  on  his  business.  His  name 
was  Lord  Glenvarloch.  He  was  tall  and  brave,  but 
very  poor,  though  the  King  owed  him  money  which  he 
would  not  pay. 

(I  could  hear  the  low  growl  of  the  boys,  which  said 
very  plainly  that  the  beginning  was  a  well-known  one. 
I  enjoined  silence  with  a  threatening  gesture  of  the 
hand.) 


MASTER   AND   MAN  145 

And  so  (continued  Sweetheart,  catching  fire  at  the 
thought  of  good-looking  misfortune)  this  young  lord 
had  to  live  in  a  mean  street  by  the  water-side  near 
Old  Saint  Paul's  —  not  the  one  you  have  seen  —  which 
was  built  by  Christopher  Wren  — 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  boys,  "we  know  old  Circum- 
spice!  Besides,  we  have  been  right  to  the  top  of  the 
dome,  while  you  stopped  at  the  Whispering  Gallery! 
Much  you  know  about  history!" 

The  name  of  the  landlord  of  the  lodgings  was  John 
Christie,  a  ship-chandler,  and  he  had  a  wife  Nelly, 
twenty  years  younger  than  himself  (which,  said  Sweet- 
heart, in  a  lower  tone,  ought  not  to  be  allowed).  Now 
Nelly  liked  the  young  Scots  lord.  She  was  kind  to 
him  and  gave  him  nice  things  to  eat. 

["What  sort  of  things?"  asked  the  boys,  together. 
It  was  a  question  that  touched  them  nearly. 

"Oh,  powdered  beef,  and  carrots,  and  greens!" 
answered  Sweetheart,  easily. 

"No  puddings?" 

"I  dare  say!"   said  Sweetheart. 

"Oh,"  said  Sir  Toady  Lion,  "you're  no  good.  All 
you  care  about  is  who  this  lord-fellow  made  love  to !" 

I  quenched  these  interrupters  sternly,  promising, 
together  with  other  immediate  penalties,  that  they 
should  not  even  get  the  chance  of  earning  a  golden 


146  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Edward,  if  they  did  not  let  Sweetheart  tell  her  story  in 
her  own  way.] 


Well  (she  went  on),  Lord  Glenvarloch  had  a  servant, 
Richard  Monyplies,  who  had  followed  him  for  a  good 
deal  of  love  and  very  little  wages,  in  order  that  he  might 
help  him  to  present  his  suit  to  the  King. 

But  it  was  a  hard  time  for  creditors  of  royalty,  and 
perhaps  the  young  Lord  Glenvarloch  was  too  modest. 
He  did  not  care  to  force  himself  among  the  crowd  of 
bullies  and  favourites  that  filled  up  all  the  doors  of  the 
court.  His  petitions  were  tossed  aside  by  secretaries. 
He  had  never  even  spoken  to  the  King,  and  as  a  last 
resort  he  had  sent  his  servant,  Richard  Monyplies,  to 
get  a  chance  of  presenting  his  request  to  the  King. 

["Shy!"  said  Sir  Toady  Lion,  scornfully.  "7 
shouldn't  have  been  shy.  He  hadn't  been  at  our  school, 
or  he  would  have  learned  different!" 

"  Be  quiet ! "  said  Hugh  John,  giving  his  brother  a 
touch  with  the  toe  of  his  boot  to  remind  him  that  little 
boys  should  be  seen  and  not  heard.] 

At  any  rate  (continued  Sweetheart),  this  Richard 
Monyplies  went  from  Mistress  Nelly  Christie's  lodg- 
ings along  by  the  rows  of  booths  and  shops  which  is 
now  called  Fleet  Street  and  the  Strand  — 


RICHARD    MONYPLIES    WENT    ALONG    FLEET    STREET.' 


MASTER   AND   MAN  147 

["They  sell  stamps  there !  —  Oh,  yes,  and  field 
glasses  —  I've  been  there  —  I've  been  there!"] 

So  they  did  in  the  time  Richard  Monyplies  went 
along  —  at  least  glasses  —  I  don't  know  about  stamps. 
The  book  does  not  say  so.  Only  the  shops  were  all 
open  in  front  just  like  booths  at  a  fair,  with  all  the 
things  laid  out  and  'prentices  to  call  out,  "What  d'ye 
lack?"  "What  d'ye  lack?"  to  the  passers-by. 

Now  there  was  one  of  these  booths  with  two  'prentices 
in  it,  both  busy  calling  out  to  passengers  the  watches 
and  spectacles  that  their  master  David  Ramsay  had 
made.  The  name  of  one  'prentice,  a  curly-headed, 
stout  lad,  was  Jin  Vin,  or  Jenkin  Vincent,  while  the 
other,  taller  and  quieter,  was  named  Tunstall.  The 
booth  was  quite  near  Temple  Bar,  where  the  griffon  now 
stands  on  his  tail,  but  it  was  a  proper  bar  then,  with 
men's  heads  stuck  along  the  top ! 

[Here  the  boys  looked  interested,  and  began  to  think 
that  Sweetheart  was  really  going  to  deserve  well  of 
her  gold  sovereign.  They  demanded  what  these  men 
had  done,  to  have  their  heads  thus  summarily  removed. 

"Oh,  committed  treason,  or  been  wiser  than  the 
King  —  or  something ! "  said  Sweetheart,  who  did  not 
care  about  this  part ;  "at  any  rate,  it  does  not  come  into 
the  story."] 

But  (she  went  on)  David  Ramsay,  the  watchmaker, 


i48  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

was  an  old,  rather  crabbed,  musty-fusty  old  fellow, 
who  was  always  doing  mental  arithmetic  in  his  head  — 
sums  about  the  making  of  watches  —  no,  they  were 
not  all  made  in  factories  then  —  one  man  made  a  whole 
watch.  Clever  of  him,  wasn't  it,  but,  I  dare  say,  rather 
trying  to  the  temper !  Well,  David  Ramsay  of  Temple 
Bar  had  his  house  just  behind  his  shop,  and  he  had  one 
lovely  young  daughter,  as  sweet-tempered  and  good  as 
she  could  be,  in  addition  to  her  prettiness.  Crusty  old 
fathers  often  have! 

["Our  father  isn't  never  crusty!"  said  Sir  Toady 
Lion,  seeing  a  chance  of  getting  even  without  danger; 
"perhaps  that's  the  reason  he  hasn't  got  'one  lovely'  - 

"Shut  up,  Toad!"  said  Hugh  John,  who,  in  these 
latter  years,  has  somewhat  broken  the  bonds  of  fraternal 
contempt,  and  become  a  sincere  admirer  of  his  elder 
sister  —  as  adding  considerably  to  the  attractiveness  of 
a  house  in  the  eyes  of  his  friends,  not  to  mention  girl 
friends  who  come  to  help  play  games.] 

Now,  this  Richard  Monyplies  was  just  like  you  boys, 
only  he  was  grown  up  —  always  ruffling  his  feathers, 
squaring  his  elbows,  and  wanting  to  fight  somebody. 
He  was  a  butcher's  son  and  had  no  money  in  his  pock- 
ets—  just  only  his  father's  old  "Andrea  Ferrara" 
sword  by  his  side ! 

Well,  down  the  Fleet  he  went,  gaping  at  the  shops, 


MASTER   AND   MAN  149 

gazing  at  old  Adam  and  Eve  playing  their  ding-dong 
on  the  steeple  of  St.  Dimstan's  church,  his  blue  bonnet 
with  the  feather  in  it  cocked  to  the  side,  his  grey  eyes, 
his  yellow  hair,  and  the  sword  with  a  ton  of  iron  in 
the  handle  — 

[Oh,  come,  Sis !"  said  Hugh  John,  who  is  a  stickler 
for  exactitude.] 

Well,  so  it  is  written  in  the  book.  Jin  Vin  said  so, 
but  then  he  was  like  you  boys  when  you  are  telling  of 
your  wonderful  feats  —  perhaps  it  was  not  quite  a  ton. 
And  this  Ritchie  had  a  threadbare  cloak  and  stepped 
out  like  a  Frenchman  (which  was  to  say  at  that  time, 
he  strutted).  He  was  long  in  the  face  like  a  Spaniard. 
He  had  a  book  at  his  girdle  on  the  one  side,  and  a  broad 
dagger  at  the  other.  Such  was  Ritchie  Monyplies,  and 
perhaps  it  was  no  wonder  that  the  'prentices  laughed. 

Still,  they  knew  that  it  was  ill  carrying  the  jest  too 
far. 

Jin  Vin  tried  his  hand,  for  he  remembered  the  prov- 
erb that  the  English  had  made  against  the  Scots  who 
had  followed  their  King  to  the  south :  — 

"In  Scotland  he  was  born  and  bred, 
And  though  a  beggar,  must  be  fed  I " 

So  he  invited  Ritchie  to  buy  a  watch  that  he  might 
count  the  hours  of  plenty  since  he  had  left  Berwick 


150  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

town,  a  pair  of  spectacles  to  see  the  English  gold  that 
lay  ready  for  his  grip.  "Or  buy  physic  for  a  proud 
stomach,"  cried  Jin  Vin;  "there  is  a  'pothecary's  on 
t'other  side  of  the  way." 

So  they  teased  him.  But  Ritchie  Monyplies  halted 
only  a  moment  to  look  at  his  tormentors ;  then,  tossing 
his  head  scornfully,  he  went  on  his  way. 

But  there  were  others  worse  than  Jin  Vin  and  his 
comrade.  A  little  along  Fleet  Street  Ritchie  knocked 
a  crockery-seller  who  had  insulted  him  over  among  his 
stock  in  trade.  Instantly  the  cry  of  "'Prentices!" 
"  'Prentices ! "  "  Clubs ! "  "  Clubs ! "  arose.  Jin  Vin 
and  Tunstall  snatched  each  his  weapon  and  ran  out 
to  join  the  fray,  leaving  the  shop  in  the  care  of  their 
master,  who  came  out  growling  at  being  disturbed. 

And  if  it  had  not  been  for  these  two,  there  might  well 
have  been  murder  done  on  poor  Ritchie  Monyplies. 
As  it  was,  they  rescued  him  with  only  a  broken  head, 
and  brought  him  back  to  their  master's  house  by  Temple 
Bar,  where  at  first,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  master  received 
him  none  too  cordially.  Here  he  was  set  down  in  a 
great  chair,  and,  after  recovering  himself  a  little,  was 
called  upon  to  explain  himself  to  David  Ramsay  and 
his  guest,  a  certain  Master  George,  a  city  merchant  of 
great  wealth  and  standing  about  the  court. 

His  name,  he  said,  was  Richard  Monyplies.    He  was 


MASTER   AND   MAN  151 

of  noble  descent,  son  of  the  noble  house  of  Monyplies 
of  Castle  Collop,  in  the  West  Port  of  Edinburgh. 

"And  pray  what  do  you  call  a  Port?"  demanded 
Master  George. 

"Oh,  a  kind  of  gate,"  said  the  Scot;  "like  those  of 
Whitehall  yonder,  but  more  noble  and  with  more 
trimmings  of  architecture!" 

"But,  sirrah,"  cried  Master  George,  "you  do  not 
mean  to  compare  the  gate  of  Edinburgh  with  the  royal 
Gates  of  Whitehall,  which  were  planned  by  the  great 
Holbein  himself,  any  more  than  you  would  dare  to  say 
that  there  is  at  Edinburgh  a  wide,  navigable  river  like 
the  Thames,  crowded  with  shipping!" 

"Ay,  but  wad  I  no !"  cried  the  Scot;  "as  if  London 
and  the  Thames  were  for  one  moment  to  be  compared 
to  Edinburgh,  where  we  have  not  only  the  Water  o' 
Leith,  but  the  Nor'  Loch  as  well!" 

"Ay,  fause  loon,"  cried  Master  George,  suddenly 
speaking  in  the  broad  Scots  accent,  "and  the  Pow 
Burn,  and  the  Quarry  Holes,  and  the  Gusedubs ! 
More  than  that,  I  believe  you  are  a  son  of  old  Mungo 
Monyplies,  who  was  a  flesher  in  the  West  Port,  an 
honest  man,  and  a  deacon  in  his  trade.  I  am  sorry  to 
see  his  son  here  with  so  poor  a  coat !" 

"Indifferent,"  said  Ritchie,  glancing  at  his  cloak, 
which  had  been  torn  in  the  fray  on  the  street,  when  a 


i52  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

left-handed  lighterman  had  given  him  a  knock  while 
Jin  Vin  and  his  comrade  were  engaged  in  saving  him, 
"indifferent,  sir.  But  more  is  the  pity  that  it  is  now 
the  ordinary  livery  of  honest  burghers'  sons.  There  is 
a  fine  crop  of  oats  in  the  Grassmarket,  and  where  my 
father's  booth  stood  you  will  find  as  much  grass  as 
would  feed  all  the  cattle  he  ever  killed.  The  King's 
going  to  England  has  taken  away  all  custom  from  the 
poor  town  of  Edinburgh." 

"True,"  said  Master  George ;  "it  ought  to  be  thought 
upon,  Master  Ramsay,  that  while  we  make  fortunes 
here,  there  are  those  left  behind  us  in  the  Guid  Toon 
who  are  hard  put  to  it  for  daily  bread." 

Now  Master  George  was  no  other  than  Master 
George  Heriot,  the  rich  goldsmith  of  the  King  —  which 
in  those  days  also  meant  banker.  The  greatness  of 
his  wealth  made  him  a  natural  head  for  the  Scots  colony 
in  London,  but  he  was  a  man  of  great  and  varied  benevo- 
lence as  well.  His  kindness  to  his  poor  countrymen, 
together  with  his  position  at  court,  and  the  familiar 
talks  he  had  with  the  King,  made  him  a  man  looked 
up  to  by  everybody. 

Master  George  asked  if  Ritchie  Monyplies  had  any 
other  master  except  "Dame  Want,"  as  the  Scot  had 
reported  of  himself. 

"I  am  the  servant  of  young  Lord  Glenvarloch,"  said 


MASTER   AND   MAN  153 

Ritchie;  "yes,  in  spite  of  my  coat — all  the  follower 
he  is  likely  to  have!" 

"I  have  seen  his  father,"  said  George  Heriot,  "with 
four  gentlemen  and  the  lackeys,  all  rustling  in  laces 
and  velvets  at  his  heels  —  a  changeful  world  —  a 
changeful  world !" 

"Ah,"  cried  Richard  Monyplies,  that  his  master 
might  not  be  shamed  before  these  London  'prentices, 
"my  master  is  in  no  more  than  present  need  —  a  slight 
pinch,  nothing  worse.  He  has  money  in  the  Royal 
Treasury  for  the  asking !  Which  is  to  say,"  he  whis- 
pered to  Master  George,  "that  the  King  owes  him  a 
heap  of  money,  and  it  will  be  somewhat  hard  to  come 
by,  I  fear!" 

The  jeweller  looked  as  if  he  believed  in  this  thor- 
oughly, having  doubtless  had  his  own  experiences. 
Then  he  asked  further  concerning  young  Lord  Glen- 
varloch,  where  his  lodging  was,  and  what  it  was  that 
he  wanted  from  the  King.  Ritchie,  however,  either 
could  not  or  would  not  give  him  any  but  the  vaguest 
direction. 

"Pie  has  left  his  lordship  behind  him,"  he  said, 
"and  now,  under  the  family  name  of  Nigel  Olifaunt, 
he  lodges  in  a  Wynd  by  the  waterside,  with  a  ship- 
chandler,  one  of  the  name  of  John  Christie." 

However,  because  of  the  love  he  had  borne  the  elder 


154  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

Lord  Glenvarloch,  George  Heriot  promised  himself  to 
find  out  his  son's  dwelling.  He  did  not  say  that  he 
meant  to  do  all  that  he  could  to  further  his  cause  with 
the  King,  because  he  knew  at  the  same  time  that  King 
James,  so  familiar  and  so  kindly  generally,  became 
quite  otherwise  when  it  was  a  question  of  the  payment 
of  money. 

[The  boys  had  grown  restless  with  all  these  prelimi- 
naries. 

"It's  nearly  as  bad  as  having  to  read  the  book!" 
they  said.  "Get  on,  Sis!" 

"It's  not  so  easy  as  you  would  think,"  said  Sweet- 
heart; "you  will  find  out  when  your  turn  comes."] 

But  at  any  rate,  the  next  morning,  after  spending  his 
night  in  a  graveyard  with  his  sword  ready  in  his  hand 
to  keep  him  from  midnight  thieves  and  evil  characters 
of  all  kinds,  Ritchie  Monyplies  arrived  belated  at  his 
master's  lodgings,  just  when  young  Nigel  Olifaunt  was 
on  the  point  of  going  out  to  lay  a  complaint  of  his 
servant's  disappearance  with  the  nearest  sitting  justice. 

He  had  recovered  somewhat  from  his  crack  on  the 
head,  having,  as  he  said,  been  reared  in  the  West  Port, 
with  a  head  that  was  more  like  to  break  a  stick  than  a 
stick  to  break  it. 

But  he  had  a  sorrowful  tale  to  tell  of  his  reception  at 
court.  He  had  carried  his  master's  supplication  — 


MASTER   AND   MAN  155 

he  called  it  "sifflication"  —  to  Whitehall.  He  had  been 
able  to  wait  for  the  King's  mounting  his  mare  to  go 
to  the  hunting,  by  the  interest  of  one  Linklater,  a 
scullion  in  the  royal  kitchen. 

But  when  the  King  appeared,  he  was  surrounded  by 
his  lords,  and  Ritchie  had  to  elbow  his  way  through 
as  best  he  could,  much  in  the  same  way  indeed  as  Jin 
Vin  had  done  through  the  Fleet  Street  crowd.  The 
people  he  pushed  out  of  his  way  did  not  love  him  the 
better  for  it,  and  still  more  when  they  saw  his  appear- 
ance of,  as  they  said,  "a  hungry  Scot." 

As  Ritchie  attempted  a  bow,  the  King's  mare  be- 
came startled.  His  Majesty,  who  sat  a  horse  "no 
better  than  a  draff-sack,"  swerved  and  came  near  to 
being  thrown.  He  tossed  the  supplication  among  his 
horse's  feet,  and  bade  them  seize  the  rascal  who  brought 
it.  There  was  talk  of  hanging.  There  was  talk 
of  scourging.  But  finally  King  James,  hearing  the 
loud  cries  for  mercy  raised  by  Ritchie  for  the  purpose 
of  reaching  his  ear,  recognised  a  countryman  and 
called  to  let  him  off,  to  give  him  a  copy  of  the  procla- 
mation, and  "send  him  down  to  the  North  again  by 
the  first  light  collier!" 

When  Master  George  Heriot  presented  himself  the 
next  day  at  the  lodging  of  the  young  lord,  he  found 
Nigel  at  first  a  little  more  than  haughty.  He  feared 


156  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

to  be  made  a  show  of  in  his  poverty,  but  the  kindness 
of  the  great  merchant,  his  respectfulness  even,  his 
genial  humour,  softened  Lord  Glenvarloch,  and  he 
finished  by  telling  all  his  tale  to  George  Heriot. 

The  King's  jeweller  and  banker  could  hardly  believe 
his  ears.  He  knew  it  was  impossible  that  the  King,  if 
he  had  rightly  understood  what  was  asked,  could  have 
thus  treated  the  son  of  his  former  chancellor  and  the 
wisest  man  in  his  kingdom,  one  also  who  had  lent  him 
great  sums  of  money  when  he  stood  sorely  in  need  of 
them. 

But  the  worst  was  that  the  Glenvarloch  estates  stood 
in  danger  of  being  lost  for  a  sum  only  a  tenth  of  their 
value,  because  of  a  wadset  or  mortgage  held  by  one 
Peterson  of  Campvere  —  according  to  George  Heriot 
a  mere  cover  for  the  Lord  Chancellor  of  Scotland,  who 
had  a  mind  to  secure  them  for  himself!  The  King's 
jeweller  at  once  declared  that  the  proclamation  could 
never  have  been  meant  for  the  son  of  a  great  Scots 
lord.  Either  the  messenger  must  have  been  unsuit- 
able, or  something  must  have  been  added  to  the  pe- 
tition. 

He  asked  for  Nigel's  permission  to  call  up  Ritchie 
Monyplies,  and  to  put  a  few  questions  to  him.  The 
serving-man  appeared,  evidently  called  from  dinner, 
and  in  a  few  moments  George  Heriot  had  made  him 


MASTER  AND   MAN  157 

confess  that  he  had  "slipped  in  a  bit  note"  of  a  debt 
due  to  his  father,  the  West  Port  butcher,  long  ago  by 
the  King's  mother,  "when  about  a  certain  Christmas 
time  she  supped  with  the  Earl  of  Bothwell ! " 

Here  at  once  was  the  explanation.  The  King  would 
not  like  to  be  reminded  of  the  mother  whom  he  had 
left  to  be  executed  in  the  same  kingdom  over  which 
he  at  present  ruled.  More  than  that,  the  name  of  the 
Earl  of  Bothwell,  his  mother's  last  husband,  springing 
to  his  eye  in  Ritchie  Monyplies,  "sifflication,"  would 
be  as  a  red  rag  to  a  bull. 

No  wonder,  also,  that  King  James,  always  afraid  of 
assassination,  had  ordered  Ritchie  out  of  his  presence. 
But  as  for  the  petition  of  Nigel  Olifaunt,  the  young 
Lord  of  Glenvarloch,  Heriot  did  not  believe  that  the 
King  had  ever  seen  it.  He  offered,  before  leaving,  to 
have  it  properly  engrossed,  and  to  place  it  in  the  hands 
of  the  King  himself  on  an  early  occasion,  which  occa- 
sion he  would  take  care  to  make  a  favourable  one. 

Lastly,  he  suggested  that  (as  the  custom  was  in  these 
times),  since  he  was  not  only  a  jeweller  but  a  money- 
lender, if  Nigel  were  in  need  of  a  hundred  pounds  or 
so  to  put  himself  in  good  trim  for  going  to  court,  the 
money  was  at  his  disposition,  at  a  suitable  interest. 
He  could  repay  it  when  his  affairs  were  in  better  con- 
dition. 


158  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"But,"  said  Nigel,  "I  do  not  know  that  they  will 
ever  be." 

"Let  me  take  the  risk  of  that,"  said  the  goldsmith ;  — 
"if  they  should  not,  the  loss  of  the  money  will  be  noth- 
ing in  comparison  with  other  griefs  that  I  shall  have !" 

Before  taking  leave,  George  Heriot  told  Nigel  that 
the  King  was  a  man  naturally  anxious  to  be  just,  but 
that  he  was  surrounded  by  those  who  wished  to  keep 
all  things  for  their  own  advantage.  Still  —  he  thought 
that  the  King  only  needed  to  be  properly  approached 
to  carry  out  the  just  demands  of  the  son  of  his  former 
statesman.  And  as  for  himself,  he  believed  that  he 
saw  his  way  through  the  business. 

As  he  went  downstairs  he  spoke  to  Nigel's  landlady, 
telling  her  to  see  to  it  that  the  young  lord  wanted  for 
nothing,  and  to  let  him  know  in  case  of  any  need. 
Mistress  Nelly  replied  that  she  would  look  to  the  latter 
herself,  and  not  only  so,  but  she  would  step  as  far  as 
Lombard  Street  to  let  his  Honour  know  how  matters 
passed. 

The  old  goldsmith,  however,  was  strict  on  discipline. 
He  did  not  wish  his  premises  cluttered  up  with  pretty 
young  wives,  so  he  said  a  little  severely,  "Let  your 
husband  come.  He  is  an  honest  man  and  punctual 
to  the  minute,  as  I  have  found  in  my  dealings  with 
him." 


MASTER   AND   MAN  159 

"Precise  old  Scotch  tinsmith!"  murmured  pretty 
Mistress  Nelly,  stamping  her  foot  in  a  quickly  passing 
anger  as  Master  George  Heriot  went  down  the  steps 
to  his  coach. 

With  the  young  lord's  suit  on  his  mind,  and  perhaps 
some  of  his  own  business  also,  Master  George  went  on 
to  see  the  King  at  Whitehall.  On  his  way  he  stopped 
at  the  booth  of  a  writer  (or  scrivener,  as  the  lawyers 
who  merely  engrossed  were  called).  Here  he  had  the 
supplication  properly  copied  on  behalf  of  Lord  Nigel. 

It  was  as  easy  a  matter  for  George  Heriot,  the  wealthy 
goldsmith  and  banker,  to  gain  entrance  to  the  royal 
closet  as  it  had  been  difficult  for  Lord  Glenvarloch's 
messenger.  The  usher  merely  nodded  his  head  in  the 
direction  of  the  King's  chamber,  and  in  a  minute  George 
Heriot  found  himself  before  the  King.  He  did  not  look 
every  inch  a  King.  Indeed  no  inch  of  him  did. 

His  dress  was  quilted  thick  to  prevent  the  danger  of 
dagger-stroke.  It  was  buttoned  all  awry  as  if  put  on 
in  a  hurry. 

[Here  Maid  Margaret  looked  at  Sir  Toady  Lion  to 
intimate  that  she  knew  Somebody  who  would  have 
made  him  button  it  properly.] 

There  were  fine  pictures  and  rich  jewels  all  about, 


160  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

on  the  walls  and  on  the  floor.  But  dust  lay  everywhere, 
thick  upon  the  pictures,  and  even  on  the  kingly  high- 
crowned  hat  which  lay  upon  the  floor  with  a  carcanet 
of  balas  rubies  gleaming  duskily  about  it. 

"Hey,  Jingling  Geordie,"  cried  the  King,  "what  new 
clatter-traps  have  you  brought  with  you,  to  cheat  your 
lawful  and  native  prince  out  of  his  siller?" 

"God  forbid,"  said  Heriot,  "that  I  should  have  any 
such  disloyal  purpose.  I  was  only  unwilling  to  let 
the  piece  of  plate  which  I  have  with  me  pass  into  the 
hands  of  a  subject  without  bringing  it  first  to  your 
Majesty's  notice." 

It  was  an  ancient  salver,  by  Benvenuto  Cellini  — 
wrought  with  the  judgment  of  Solomon,  a  subject 
which  pleased  the  King  greatly.  More  so,  indeed,  than 
did  the  price,  which  was  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 

However,  after  haggling  awhile,  the  King  ordered 
the  piece  to  be  taken  away  and  set  where  Baby  Charles 
and  "Steenie"  would  see  it  on  their  return  from  Rich- 
mond, meaning  his  son  and  his  favourite  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham. 

"Maybe,"  he  said  to  the  jeweller,  "I  am  no  just  able 
to  pay  it  ye  at  this  moment,  but  I  am  brawly  weel  able 
to  owe  it  ye!" 

Then  the  bargain  being  completed,  the  King  be- 
gan to  tell  his  gossip  and  goldsmith  how  nearly  his 


MASTER  AND   MAN  161 

High  Majesty  had  been  thrown  from  his  horse  on  the 
previous  day,  owing  to  a  rash  "  gutter bluid"  of  Edin- 
burgh rushing  into  his  sacred  presence  with  a  supplica- 
tion —  something  about  a  debt  due  by  "my  honoured 
mother." 

"Ud's  death,  Geordie,"  he  cried,  suddenly  getting 
excited,  "there's  not  a  loon  among  them  all  that  knows 
how  to  deliver  a  supplication  as  it  ought  to  be  brought 
before  the  face  of  Majesty." 

Here  George  Heriot  professed  himself  willing  to  be 
taught  —  "that  he  might  instruct  his  poor  ignorant 
countrymen  in  better  fashions." 

Whereupon  King  James  showed  him  how  to  approach 
the  Vicegerent  of  Heaven,  with  his  hand  held  edgeways 
to  his  eyes  as  if  to  signify  that  he  was  approaching  the 
sun  in  his  splendour.  Then  how  to  kneel,  as  if  to  kiss 
the  hem  of  the  royal  garment,  whereupon  the  royal 
Solomon,  ever  willing  to  be  kindly  and  debonair, 
prevents  him  with  a  motion  of  the  hand,  as  if  to  raise 
him  to  his  feet.  Lastly  the  subject  (the  King  explained) 
slips  his  hand  into  his  pouch  and  places  his  dutiful 
supplication  into  the  hand  of  his  sovereign. 

All  which  instructions  the  goldsmith  carefully  fol- 
lowed to  his  master's  satisfaction,  and  at  the  last,  fitting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  put  into  the  King's  hand  the 
petition  of  Lord  Glenvarloch. 


162  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

The  King  reddened  with  quickly  passing  anger,  as 
George  Heriot,  who  knew  so  well  the  moods  of  his 
master,  began  to  recall  so  many  merry  tricks  of  the 
old  hard  days  in  Holyrood,  and  the  merry  pranks  they 
played,  so  that  King  James  was  soon  won  to  a  good 
humour  again. 

"D'ye  mind,"  said  the  King,  entering  into  the  spirit 
of  the  goldsmith's  reminiscences,  "how  often  we  had 
more  wooden  plates  and  latten  platters  than  meat  to 
put  on  them  —  and  how  once  we  were  fain  to  send  six 
of  the  Blue-banders  to  harry  the  Lady  of  Loganhouse's 
pigeon-tower  and  poultry  yard,  so  that  the  King  should 
not  die  of  want  in  his  own  palace  ?  Also  of  the  terrible 
plaint  that  the  Lady  made  against  Jock  o'  Milch,  an 
Annandale  thief,  who,  though  guilty  of  much,  was  at 
least  as  innocent  of  that  particular  deed  as  I  am  of 
murder!" 

Finally  the  King,  always  scarce  of  money,  arranged 
with  his  goldsmith  to  pay  to  Lord  Glenvarloch  two 
hundred  pounds,  that  he  might  come  decently  to  court, 
and  also  commanded  him  to  do  his  best  in  the  city  for 
the  raising  of  £50,000,  out  of  which  to  pay  the  wadset 
or  mortgage  upon  the  Glenvarloch  estates. 


NIGEL   AT   COURT  163 

THE    SECOND    TALE    FROM    "THE   FORTUNES 
OF   NIGEL" 

NIGEL  AT  COURT 

AT  this  point  everything  seemed  to  be  going  right 
(continued  Sweetheart,  with  great  penetration)  —  only, 
you  know,  it  wasn't  really,  or  else  the  book  would  have 
ended  just  then.  Well,  next  day  George  Heriot  gave 
a  dinner,  to  which  he  had  invited  a  number  of  Scot- 
tish folk  to  meet  the  young  lord,  or  Master  Nigel  Oli- 
faunt,  as  he  still  preferred  to  be  called.  There  was 
Sir  Mungo  Malagrowther,  a  deaf,  bitter  old  man,  who 
had  been  King's  whipping  boy  in  his  youth  —  that  is, 
when  the  King  did  wrong  or  did  not  know  his  lessons, 
his  playmate  was  horsed  and  whipped  instead  of  him ! 
There  came  also  David  Ramsay  and  his  pretty  daughter 
Margaret,  besides  several  other  citizens  and  friends  of 
George  Heriot. 

And  out  of  this  dinner  came  many  things.  First,  a 
certain  aching  in  the  heart  of  pretty  Peggy  Ramsay, 
of  pity  for  the  poor  young  lord,  and  the  hope  that 
perhaps  she  might  be  able  to  find  a  way  of  making  him 
happier.  At  any  rate  (said  Sweetheart)  she  was  anxious 
to  try,  which  was  very  nice  of  her.  Don't  you  think  so  ? 

Then  afterwards  something  very  strange  happened 
to  Lord  Nigel  at  the  family  prayers,  which  were  still 


164  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

a  custom  at  the  close  of  every  day  in  the  goldsmith's 
house. 

George  Heriot  asked  Nigel  to  stay,  saying  that  his 
father  would  not  have  left  the  house  before  worship. 
A  place  was  left  vacant  as  the  family  entered  to  take 
their  places.  Then  a  young  lady,  tall  and  pale,  dressed 
in  white,  her  black  hair  flowing  down  her  back,  entered 
and  seated  herself.  Till  service  began  her  eyes  re- 
mained fixed  upon  the  face  of  Lord  Nigel.  But  at  the 
close  of  worship,  she  kneeled  and  was  blessed  by  the 
hand  of  George  Heriot  laid  lightly  upon  her  head. 
Then  she  bowed  low  to  Aunt  Judith,  and  so  passed 
out  as  mysteriously  as  she  had  entered. 

So  deep  an  impression  did  this  mysterious  figure  make 
upon  Nigel,  that  he  could  think  of  nothing  else,  hardly 
even  of  the  way  in  which,  according  to  George  Heriot, 
he  should  behave  when  presented  at  Court ! 

Going  home  that  night,  however,  Ritchie  Monyplies 
told  his  master  what  he  had  heard  when  he  and  the 
'prentices  were  waiting  in  hall  for  their  masters  and 
mistresses,  how  that  this  mysterious  lady  was  no  real 
living  being,  but  only  the  spectre  of  one  who  had  been 
dead  many  years,  now  in  the  quality  of  familiar  spirit 
attached  to  the  household  of  Heriot,  haunting  their 
mansion  in  Lombard  Street,  sleeping  in  her  own  coffin, 
and  having  food  passed  in  upon  a  circular  table ! 


NIGEL   AT   COURT  165 

Lord  Nigel,  though  struck  by  the  story,  made  merry 
at  the  idea  of  an  evil  spirit  with  a  suite  of  apartments, 
which  partook  of  food  and  attended  divine  service. 
But  Ritchie  answered  that  all  Lombard  Street  knew 
the  fact,  and  that  it  was  even  whispered  that  George 
Heriot  himself  wore  the  cloven  hoof  under  his  black 
silk  hose  and  shoes  of  Cordovan  leather. 

Whereupon  Nigel  threatened  to  break  his  head  for  a 
rascal  who  partook  too  freely  of  a  gentleman's  good 
cheer  and  then  dared  to  defame  him  behind  his 
back! 

But  the  sad  face  of  the  young  lord  had  also  made 
Margaret  Ramsay  singularly  unhappy.  So  much  so 
that  her  serving-maid,  Scotch  Janet,  took  it  upon  her- 
self to  call  in  one  Dame  Ursula  Suddlechop,  the  wife 
of  Ben  the  Barber,  a  lady  much  sought  after  in  the 
matter  of  giving  advice  to  people  who  fancied  them- 
selves in  love. 

[Here  the  boys  groaned,  and  even  Sweetheart  smiled 
at  the  idea  of  any  girl,  however  young,  not  knowing 
her  own  mind  in  such  matters.] 

That  night  Nigel's  ear  ought  to  have  burned,  for 
Margaret  and  the  Dame  talked  much  of  him,  and  they 
parted  only  when  Ursula  promised  that  she  would 
do  her  best  to  find  out  about  Lord  Nigel,  and  also 
maybe  a  way  of  making  him  less  sad. 


166  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

["She  was  in  love,  I  suppose,  the  little  silly!"  said 
Sir  Toady  Lion,  scornfully. 

"No,  she  wasn't  then!"  Sweetheart  denied  the  crime 
sharply.  "Only  she  wanted  to  help,  as  you  will  find 
out,  if  only  you  keep  quiet  and  listen."] 

When  Nigel  appeared  at  court  with  George  Heriot 
on  the  following  day,  he  found  the  palace  already 
crowded  with  those  waiting  to  be  received.  There 
was  some  difficulty  about  the  matter  at  first,  for  Max- 
well, the  usher  of  the  royal  chamber,  demanded  with 
whom  he  had  come. 

"With  Master  George  Heriot!"  said  Nigel. 

"That  is  not  sufficient,"  said  Maxwell ;  "the  name  of 
Master  Heriot,  though  good  for  much  gold  and  silver, 
is  not  sufficient  to  admit  any  one  into  the  presence 
chamber." 

But  it  chanced  that  an  old  adversary  of  Nigel's 
father,  the  Earl  of  Huntingtower,  heard  the  usher's 
words,  took  his  arm,  and  in  spite  of  opposition  pushed 
right  in  to  the  presence  of  King  James. 

The  King  seemed  pleased  with  the  young  man, 
especially  with  his  readiness  in  the  use  of  the  Latin 
tongue,  which  he  had  learned  in  Holland.  But  as  soon 
as  Nigel  presented  his  supplication,  James  cried  out 
that  nobody  ever  came  from  Scotland  but  to  ask  some- 
thing of  him,  and  it  needed  all  the  credit  of  the  Earl  of 


NIGEL   AT   COURT  167 

Huntingtower  to  obtain  an  order  from  the  King  upon 
the  Scottish  Exchequer  for  the  money  due  to  Nigel's 
father. 

This,  however,  was  at  last  obtained,  and  Hunting- 
tower  brought  the  goldsmith  back  with  him  to  draw 
up  the  deeds,  and  also  to  introduce  Nigel  to  his  son, 
who  was  the  ordinary  companion  of  Prince  Charles 
and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

On  their  way  they  met  the  favourite,  the  handsomest 
man  of  his  age,  but  as  ever  proud  and  unscrupulous. 
And  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  declared  without  the 
least  form  of  politeness  that  Nigel  might  consider  him 
as  his  enemy. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  plainness,  my  Lord  Duke," 
said  Nigel;  "an  open  enemy  is  better  than  a  hollow 
friend." 

But  through  the  anger  of  the  court  favourites,  and 
the  difficulties  of  the  King  about  the  payment  of  his 
debt,  there  pierced  the  true  design.  The  Duke  of 
Buckingham  wanted  a  hunting  forest  in  Scotland,  and, 
having  heard  of  the  Glenvarloch  estates,  he  was  now 
eager  to  obtain  them  at  a  price  which  was  a  mere  noth- 
ing in  comparison  to  their  value.  Peterson  of  Camp- 
vere,  the  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  Scotland  himself, 
were  no  more  than  tools  in  the  hands  of  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham. 


168  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Thus  poor  Nigel  had  found  his  open  enemy.  He 
was  now  to  find  the  still  worse  hollow  friend.  Dalgarno, 
the  son  of  the  Earl  of  Huntingtower,  received  Nigel, 
apparently,  with  open  arms.  But  secretly  he  was 
doing  all  he  could  to  destroy  him.  He  dissuaded  him 
from  going  to  court,  saying  that  till  he  had  made  his 
peace  with  the  favourite  it  was  useless.  He  took  him 
to  gambling-hells,  and,  when  Nigel  played  cautiously, 
he  sent  the  whisper  abroad  that  Lord  Glenvarloch 
only  "plucked  poor  pigeons,"  but  was  too  cowardly 
to  play  for  high  stakes  with  "a  cock  of  the  game." 

Then  at  court,  whenever  the  King  asked  for  Lord 
Glenvarloch,  Dalgarno  would  pretend  to  defend  him, 
but  really  managed  to  prejudice  the  King  against  him, 
by  regretting  that  his  friend  was  prevented  from  attend- 
ance at  the  court  by  a  too  great  devotion  to  the  pleasures 
of  the  gaming-house. 

However,  after  a  time  Nigel  began  to  have  his  sus- 
picions. Not  only  did  he  meet  averted  eyes,  even  in 
the  taverns  which  he  frequented,  but  his  faithful  Ritchie 
Monyplies  told  him  plainly  that  he  had  had  enough  of 
his  service.  He  was  laughed  at  everywhere,  he  in- 
formed him.  Dalgarno  himself  spoke  evil  of  him, 
and  that,  in  short,  Ritchie  Monyplies,  who  had  served 
him  so  long  for  love,  was  not  going  to  wait  and  see  his 
master  ruin  himself  in  London  gambling  rooms. 


NIGEL    IN    THE    GAMING    HOUSE. 


NIGEL  AT   COURT  169 

The  next  day  he  received  a  letter  warning  him  that 
Dalgarno  was  his  worst  enemy,  and  was  every  day 
betraying  him  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  while  pre- 
tending to  be  his  friend. 

Nigel  was  naturally  hot-blooded,  and  so,  after  he 
had  been  insulted  by  the  Prince  himself,  he  met  Dal- 
garno, and  in  the  heat  of  a  quarrel  drew  his  sword, 
and  with  it  struck  his  false  friend.  "The  penalty  for 
this  was  the  loss  of  the  right  hand,  for  brawling  within 
the  precincts  of  the  park. 

Nigel  had  instantly  to  flee  as  best  he  could,  mak- 
ing for  the  only  place  where  he  had  immunity  —  or 
might  be  supposed  to  have  it  —  to  the  Sanctuary  of 
Whitefriars,  called  Alsatia,  just  beyond  the  Temple. 
Happily  he  fell  in  with  a  young  Templar,  named 
Reginald.  Lowestoffe,  who  took  him  to  .his  rooms  and 
disguised  him  for  his  stay  in  Alsatia. 

Reginald  Lowestoffe  proved  a  very  friend  in  need. 
He  conducted  Nigel  in  safety  through  the  streets  of 
that  dangerous  "suburb,"  swarming  with  rogues  and 
bullies.  He  introduced  him  to  the  one-eyed  inn-keeper 
who  governed  it  by  the  aid  of  a  privy  council.  He 
pleaded  his  case  before  the  out-at-elbows  Council  of 
Duke  Hildebrod,  threatening  that  if  Nigel  Graeme 
were  not  received,  the  Templars  would  close  their  gates, 
which  meant  that  access  to  Alsatia  Would  be  made  much 
more  difficult  and  dangerous  for  its  inmates. 


170  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

Nigel  Graeme  —  for  in  the  meantime  he  had  taken 
his  mother's  name  —  was  allotted  as  lodger  to  a  certain 
Trapbois,  a  miser,  who  lived  with  one  ugly,  crabbed 
daughter,  down  the  water-side,  as  Lowestoffe  said,  in 
the  only  clean  house  in  Whitefriars.  Here  Nigel,  for 
the  moment  safe  from  his  pursuers,  was  left  by  the 
Templar.  But  all  that  he  had  gained  of  court  favour 
was  in  a  way  to  be  lost.  George  Heriot  was  in  Holland 
on  business;  Lord  Huntingtower  could  not  very  well 
stand  his  friend  because  of  his  strife  with  his  son  Dal- 
garno  —  even  Ritchie  had  forsaken  him.  There  was 
only  the  roystering  Templar  and  little  Margaret  Ram- 
say to  care  about  him.  And  of  the  interest  of  the  latter 
he  was  still  ignorant.  But  if  he  had  forgotten  Mar- 
garet, she  had  not  forgotten  him. 

THE  END  OF  SWEETHEART'S  SECOND  TALE  FROM  UTHE 
FORTUNES   OF  NIGEL" 

"Well,"  said  Sir  Toady  Lion,  critically,  at  the  close 
of  Sweetheart's  tale,  "I  don't  suppose  this  Nigel  will 
ever  do  any  good.  Just  fancy  letting  people  suck  up  to 
you  like  Dalgarno,  and  you  never  know  any  difference, 
and  gambling  —  rubbish !  Once  a  boy  bet  with  me  — 
and  he  wanted  to  take  my  sixpence,  too,  just  because 
he  won.  Only  I  hit  him  and  made  him  give  it  back !" 

"Then  you  were  a  little  brute,  Toady  Lion,"  said 


YOUTHFUL   CRITICISM  171 

Hugh  John,  who  has  high  ideas  of  sportsmanlike  be- 
haviour. 

"No,  I  wasn't,"  said  Sir  Toady.  "I'm  going  in  for 
the  navy,  and  father  says  that  gambling  isn't  allowed 
in  our  service!" 

"Oh,"  said  Hugh  John,  "father  says  that,  does  he?" 

"Well  —  words  to  that  effect."  Sir  Toady  hesitated 
a  little.  "P'raps  he  did  not  say  exactly  that,  but  anyway 
it's  bad  form  and  isn't  allowed  when  you're  young." 

"Hum,"  said  Hugh  John,  "stunts  your  growth,  like 
smoking,  I  suppose!" 

"Of  course,"  said  Sweetheart,  rather  remorsefully, 
"it's  all  ever  so  much  better  when  you  read  the  book. 
You'll  see  when  you  begin  to  tell.  You  have  to  leave 
out  the  very  nicest  bits,  just  because  they  are  too  nice  to 
tell  over  again  at  all.  But  you  can  just  hear  the  story 
first,  and  then  read  all  about  it  in  the  book  afterwards. 
I  will  tell  you  the  good  chapters." 

"We've  both  got  our  own  books  to  read,"  said  Sir 
Toady,  dolefully,  who  found  consecutive  reading  of  any 
kind  much  inferior  to  scouring  the  woods  after  birds' 
nests. 

Hugh  John,  who  takes  to  serious  reading  as  a  duck 
to  water,  at  first  found  Sir  Walter  chiefly  interesting 
in  the  notes  —  because  (as  he  said)  "you  can  believe 
them."  However,  he  had  taken  the  most  historical 


172  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

of  the  adventurous  romances,  and  was  "reading  up" 
all  round  it  so  as  to  throw  new  light  upon  the  text. 

A  singular  silence  fell  on  the  little  company  when  I 
asked  what  they  thought  of  the  tale.  It  lasted  for 
some  time,  while  the  boys  pottered  with  pencils  and 
finished  sketches. 

"Oh,  up  to  the  present  it's  no  great  shakes  of  a  tale," 
said  Sir  Toady,  frankly;  "but  perhaps  it's  better  in  the 
book!" 

"Of  course  it  is  —  ever  so  much,"  said  Sweetheart, 
despondently;  "that's  what  I'm  always  telling  you! 
But  then,  you  see,  you  won't  read  the  book !  So  if  I 
don't  tell  you,  you  won't  know!" 

This  contained  too  much  of  naked  truth  to  be  denied, 
and  Sir  Toady  had  perforce  to  fall  back  upon  the  hope- 
fulness of  Nigel's  position  in  Alsatia,  and  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  miser  Trapbois. 

Condemnation  with  such  faint  praise  nearly  brought 
the  tears  into  Sweetheart's  eyes,  though  she  had  long 
ago  left  behind  the  melting  mood.  But  I,  who  knew 
the  nature  of  young  men  with  a  golden  sovereign  to  be 
won,  told  her  that  they  merely  did  not  want,  by  over- 
praising her  performance,  to  show  how  far  short  theirs 
came  of  the  mark. 

"Oh,"  said  Sweetheart,  "they  never  could  be  so 
mean  —  not  even  boys!" 


YOUTHFUL   CRITICISM  173 

However,  the  young  gentlemen  concerned  made  no 
great  pretensions  to  virtue,  and  said  only  that  "it  was 
well  enough"  — but  that  Sweetheart  "used  too  many 
book  words,  and  did  not  get  on  fast  enough"  —  to  all 
which  the  retort  was  obvious. 

"Well,  wait  till  your  turn  comes,  and  see  if  you  do 
better!" 

But  in  spite  of  all  I  could  say  the  tale-teller  was 
downcast,  till  Maid  Margaret  (who  really  had  not 
listened  to  more  than  half,  owing  to  the  superior  attrac- 
tions of  a  blue-bottle  booming  from  window  to  win- 
dow) came  up,  and  taking  her  about  the  neck  whis- 
pered: "Don't  you  mind  what  the  boys  say.  If  you 
don't  get  a  gold  pound,  I'll  give  you  half  of  mine !" 

Which  was  at  least  quite  practical  sympathy,  and 
showed  a  pretty  confidence  in  self. 

She  was,  however,  still  more  comforted  by  the  criti- 
cism of  one  more  experienced. 

"Sweetheart,"  I  said,  "the  best  story  for  telling  is 
not  always  the  one  you  like  best  to  read.  I  think  I 
like  The  Antiquary  best  of  all,  but  it  was  the  hardest 
to  tell  to  you  children." 

"I  like  them  all  so  much,"  mourned  Sweetheart, 
"Nigel,  and  Margaret,  and  George  Heriot  —  yes,  even 
the  bad  people,  Dalgarno  and  Trapbois!" 

"Oh,  yes,  that  was  famous!"    Hugh  John  allowed, 


174  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"that  part  about  Nigel  whacking  Dalgarno  in  the 
park!" 

"He  should  have  stuck  him!"  said  the  bloodthirsty 
Sir  Toady,  "and  why  not  in  a  park?  Wasn't  that  the 
best  place?  He  couldn't  have  said,  'Kindly  come  up- 
stairs into  the  second-best  parlour,  and  there  I'll  let 
daylight  through  you  with  my  whinger,  double-dyed 
traitor  that  you  are!'" 

Sir  Toady's  sense  of  the  humorous  was  various  —  so 
much  so  indeed  that  at  school  he  was  frequently  in 
danger  of  "getting  licked  for  it." 

"Because,"  said  Sweetheart,  "King  James  was  so 
afraid  of  death  by  assassination.  He  had  so  often  been 
in  danger  in  Scotland  that,  when  he  went  to  England, 
he  forbade  all  duelling  and  brawling  within  the  bounds 
of  the  Royal  Park  under  penalty  of  the  brawler  losing 
his  right  hand." 

"Well,  I'd  have  waited  for  him  with  a  big  stick,  and 
whacked  him  well  when  he  came  out,"  affirmed  Sir 
Toady.  "I'd  have  given  the  park-keeper  a  sixpence 
to  tell  me  when  he  was  coming,  and  then  —  I'd  have 
cured  Mister  Dalgarno  of  telling  tales  on  me!" 

"You  couldn't,"  said  Sweetheart;  "clubs  were  only 
for  'prentices.  And  if  you  had  been  in  the  story,  you 
would  have  had  to  use  a  sword  or  be  disgraced !" 

"  Maybe  ! "  said  Sir  Toady,  calmly ; "  wearing  a  sword 


YOUTHFUL   CRITICISM  175 

is  all  right  —  looks  fine,  and  waggles  about  among 
your  legs  so  as  to  make  you  feel  grand.  But  for  fight- 
ing, give  me  a  proper  good  thick  stick,  that  doesn't 
kill  anybody,  but  dresses  them  down  properly.  And 
that,  after  all,  is  what  you  want !" 

"You  would  be  like  Jin  Vin,  the  watchmaker's 
apprentice,"  said  Sweetheart,  scornfully,  for  she  was 
entirely  of  Miss  Margaret  Ramsay's  mind.  A  hero  to 
her  was  a  hero,  and  had  both  to  be  treated  and  to 
behave  as  such. 

"Well  and  suppose,"  said  Sir  Toady.  "  Jin  Vin  was 
about  the  best  man  of  the  lot  by  a  sea  mile.  He  was 
nearly  good  enough  for  the  navy !" 

"If  he  had  gone  into  the  army  he  would  have  needed 
to  join  a  line  regiment !"  said  Hugh  John,  who  prided 
himself  on  his  height  —  quite  scorning  the  often  cited 
proverb  about  its  requiring  superior  grace.  "But 
Jin  Vin  would  have  made  a  good  'non-com'!"  he 
added  reflectively. 

This  I  doubted,  but  said  nothing.  After  all,  the  more 
of  the  real  opinions  of  youth  I  jotted  down,  the  easier 
would  be  my  task  of  editor. 

Then  Sir  Toady  delivered  himself,  lifting  himself 
into  a  sitting  posture  to  do  it. 

"This  is  it,"  he  said.  "Father  told  the  'Red  Cap 
Tales'  just  like  the  book,  only  not  so  long.  Sweetheart 


176  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

thinks  there's  nothing  like  the  hero  and  who  made 
love  to  who  — " 

"I  don't  —  I  haven't!"  exclaimed  Sweetheart;  "at 
least  not  yet!" 

"Ah,  but  wait  till  I  tell  my  story  —  you'll  think  John 
Silver  was  corned  back  again!"  cried  Toady.  And 
he  cried  in  a  loud  green-parrot  voice,  "  Pieces-of-Eight  I 
Pieces-of-EigUr 

This  is  that  Sir  Toady  Lion  who  (they  say)  obtained 
nomination  to  a  certain  college  for  his  reply  to  one  of 
the  examiners,  who  asked  to  know  if  he  had  read  any 
of  the  books  of  a  near  relative. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  examinee,  carelessly,  "some. 
But  —  I  like  Treasure  Island  better."  Excellent 
criticism,  excellent  honesty,  excellent  policy !  He  was 
admitted  at  once. 

And  still  he  is  popularly  believed  to  be  thoroughly 
informed  on  which  side  his  bread  is  buttered. 

As  for  Hugh  John,  he  said  nothing.  But  he  knew 
that  his  turn  came  first.  Then  he  turned,  kicked  Sir 
Toady  painstakingly,  and  delivered  himself  thus: — 

"See  here,  all  this  is  dashed  unfair  to  Sis.  She  has 
got  to  get  through  her  story  or  get  no  'sov.'  Now  I 
happen  to  know  that  she  needs  the  chips  — ' 

"Sis  always  does,"  said  Sir  Toady  Lion;  "she's  not 
a  good  little  boy  like  somebody  I  could  name  —  never 
find  any  green  missionary  box  under  her  pillow!" 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS          177 

"Shut  up,  Toadums!" 

The  authority  of  an  elder  brother  being  readily 
backed  by  a  fist  which  Sir  Toady  knew  to  be  large  and 
forceful  and  bony,  the  knight  closed  the  alleys  of  his 
speech.  Once  more  Sweetheart  had  the  floor. 


ALSATIA  was  no  very  pleasant  place  to  hide  in  for 
a  while  (Sweetheart  continued).  It  was  full  of  all  the 
scum  of  the  city,  which,  contrary  to  the  usual  behaviour 
of  "scum,"  did  not  rise  to  the  top,  but  lay  festering 
along  the  water-side  marshes. 

Besides,  it  was  what  you  boys  would  call  a  jolly 
good  thing  that  Nigel  had  not  gone  directly  there,  for 
even  Alsatia  could  not  stand  against  a  writ  of  the  Star 
Chamber,  backed  by  a  search  warrant  from  the  Lord 
Chancellor.  However,  it  had  already  been  searched 
before  Nigel  descended  thither;  in  fact,  while  he  re- 
mained in  Reginald  Lowestoffe's  lodgings  in  the 
Temple.  But  the  next  day  the  "rattling  Templar" 
could  not  come  to  see  him,  because  many  of  the  Senior 
benchers  were  displeased  at  his  meddling  in  so  serious 
a  matter,  and  one  which  so  deeply  concerned  both  the 
Prince  and  the  favourite  Buckingham.  The  day  after 


178  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Lowestoffe  was  "laid  in  lavender"  — which  is  to  say, 
put  in  prison  —  for  his  kindness  to  Nigel,  so  that  the 
young  man  was  more  than  ever  alone  in  the  house  of 
Trapbois,  the  miser,  by  the  water-side  of  Whitefriars. 

The  daughter  of  Trapbois  was  an  old  maid  of  a  se- 
vere and  unbeautiful  countenance.  But  she  kept  her 
father's  house  well,  and  did  her  best  to  keep  him  from 
showing  his  miserliness  and  unhappy  spirit.  Martha 
Trapbois  was  a  sensible  woman,  and  in  her  way  kind 
to  Nigel,  though  she  did  not  hide  her  contempt  for  the 
brawling  and  gambling  that  had  brought  him  where 
he  was. 

Her  father  was  constantly  making  offers  of  service 
to  his  lodger,  but  none  of  these  would  Martha  Trapbois 
permit  Nigel  to  accept.  In  spite  of  the  plainness  of 
her  looks,  the  miser's  daughter  was  considered  a  great 
match  in  all  the  quarter.  A  blustering  bully,  named 
Captain  Colepepper,  proposed  again  and  again  for  her 
hand.  Duke  Hildebrod  came  in  person  to  make  a 
match  between  her  and  Nigel.  Her  dowry  was  sup- 
posed by  the  Alsatians  to  amount  to  fifty  thousand 
pounds  at  least. 

Often  Nigel  would  ask  why  she  and  her  father  re- 
mained in  so  dangerous  a  locality,  but  the  only  answer 
he  got  from  the  miser's  daughter  was  that  so  long  as  her 
father  lived,  they  were  safer  there  than  elsewhere. 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  179 

But  Nigel  wearied  his  life  out  in  such  a  den.  He 
had  nothing  to  read.  There  were  no  books  in  the 
house,  except  Mistress  Martha's  Bible,  which  she  would 
not  lend,  and  the  second  volume  of  an  arithmetic 
belonging  to  her  father,  which  Nigel  declined  to  bor- 
row. Duke  Hildebrod,  however,  sent  him  a  dog- 
eared quarto,  but  this,  at  a  first  trial,  did  not  interest 
him  greatly.  The  Templar,  being  still  kept  in  prison, 
could  not  for  the  moment  do  more  for  his  friend. 
Every  day  there  was  fear  of  a  descent  in  force  to  search 
for  him.  Yet  all  the  time  he  was  in  the  house,  he 
could  not  help  admiring  more  and  more  the  character 
of  Martha  Trapbois,  who,  though  she  loved  her  father, 
did  all  she  could  to  prevent  him  cheating  his  guest, 
or  pestering  him  with  offers  of  assistance  "for  a  con- 
sideration." 

It  happened  one  day  that  Nigel,  in  consideration  of 
his  good  treatment,  had  added  a  gold  piece  to  the  pay- 
ment of  his  bill.  The  miser  leaped  on  it  at  once, 
claiming  it  as  his.  But  his  daughter  made  him  give 
it  back.  All  day,  however,  he  lingered  about  the 
passages  watching  for  his  chance,  and  even  at  night 
he  returned,  partly  to  make  sure  of  the  gold  Jacobus 
which  Nigel  had  left  upon  the  table,  and  partly  because 
for  his  own  ends  he  wished  to  steal  the  King's  order 
upon  the  Scottish  Treasury  for  the  money  which  was 
to  redeem  the  estates  of  Glenvarloch. 


i8o  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Martha  Trapbois  was  constantly  advising  Nigel  to 
have  no  dealings  with  her  father,  to  be  his  own  servant 
and  sole  confidant,  to  make  no  intimates,  borrow  no 
money,  make  no  display  of  what  property  he  had,  and 
last  of  all  to  get  out  of  Whitefriars  as  soon  as  he  could. 

Nigel  thanked  her,  saying  to  himself  that  a  gnarled 
tree  might  bear  good  fruit,  and  a  harsh  nature  give 
good  council. 

That  very  night  Nigel  was  reading  for  the  second 
time  Duke  Hildebrod's  book,  God's  Revenge  against 
Murther.  The  strange,  weird  tales  fascinated  him, 
thus  read  in  the  silence  of  the  night  and  in  such  a  place. 
It  was  wearing  late,  but  Nigel  still  read  on.  Suddenly 
the  tapestry  flapped  against  the  wall  as  if  a  door  had 
been  opened.  The  flames  of  the  candles  waved,  and 
there  before  him  Nigel  saw  the  bloodless  countenance, 
meagre  form,  and  ghastly  aspect  of  "old  Trapbois. 

Moved  partly  by  what  he  had  been  reading  and  partly 
by  the  place  in  which  he  found  himself,  Nigel  sprang  to 
his  feet,  placed  the  sword  which  he  had  unsheathed  at 
the  old  man's  breast,  and  demanded  what  he  meant 
by  breaking  into  his  room  at  midnight.  They  were 
standing  thus;  when  Martha  Trapbois  appeared  from 
behind  the  tapestry/  She  had  a  lamp  in  her  hand,  and 
coming  close  to  Nigel,  she  attempted  to  push  aside  his 
naked  blade  with  her  hand.  '  '  "'' 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  181 

"For  shame ! "  she  cried,  "to  draw  your  sword  on  a 
man  of  eighty  years  and  more !  Is  this  the  honour  of 
a  Scottish  gentleman?  Give  it  to  me  to  make  a  spindle 
of!" 

"Stand  back !"  said  Nigel;  "I  mean  your  father  no 
injury,  but  I  will  know  what  has  caused  him  to  prowl 
all  day  long,  and  even  at  this  late  hour  of  night,  around 
my  arms!" 

"Your  arms!"  repeated  Martha  Trapbois,  sadly. 
"Alas,  young  man,  all  the  arms  in  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don would  be  of  little  value  to  my  father  in  comparison 
with  that  single  piece  of  gold  which  was  left  this  morn- 
ing on  the  table  by  a  young  spendthrift,  too  careless  to 
put  that  which  belonged  to  him  into  his  own  purse." 

And  indeed  so  it  was.  The  old  miser  had  made  use 
of  a  passage,  long  disused,  to  enter  his  guest's  chamber 
when  he  fancied  him  asleep,  and  so  obtain  what  he  had 
been  yearning  for  all  day. 

"It  is  mine!  It  is  mine!"  he  cried.  "He  gave  it 
me  for  a  consideration.  I  will  die  ere  I  part  with  my 
property!" 

"It  is,  indeed,  his  own,  mistress,"  said  Nigel,  "and 
I  entreat  you  to  restore  it  to  the  person  to  whom  I 
gave  it,  and  let  me  have  my  apartment  in  quiet !" 

"I  will  account  with  you  for  it,  then,"  said  the  maiden, 
firmly.  She  gave  it  most  reluctantly  to  her  father,  who 


182  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

pounced  upon  it  like  a  hawk  seizing  its  prey.  Then  he 
made  a  muttering,  contented  noise  over  it,  like  an  old 
dog  that  has  been  fed,  before  following  his  daughter 
through  a  little  sliding  door  which  could  be  seen  when 
the  hangings  were  drawn  apart. 

"This  shall  be  properly  fastened  to-morrow,"  said 
Martha  Trapbois  under  her  breath  to  Nigel;  "to- 
night I  shall  watch  him  closely.  I  wish  you  good 
repose!" 

It  was  the  first  time  that  his  grim  hostess  had  used 
such  civil  words  to  Nigel,  but  the  wish  was  not  to  be 
accomplished.  Nigel  failed  to  get  to  sleep.  He 
watched  the  dying  embers  of  the  fire  till  his  eyes  were 
dazzled.  He  listened  to  the  dull  moaning  of  the  wind, 
the  creak  of  many  swinging  signboards,  and  the  baying 
of  homeless  dogs,  till  his  ears  grew  weary.  Sleep,  how- 
ever, seemed  as  far  off  as  ever. 

Suddenly,  through  this  monotony,  pierced  a  shriek 
that  brought  Nigel  to  his  feet  in  a  moment  —  a  woman's 
cry  of  utmost  distress.  Then  another  —  and  another ! 

Nigel  armed  himself  swiftly ;  sword  and  pistol  were 
luckily  at  his  hand.  He  ran  to  the  door  of  the  chamber. 
The  cries  came  from  the  room  of  the  miser,  and  the 
brave  young  lord  shook  the  closed  door  of  the  corridor 
in  his  impatience.  Then  the  secret  passage  occurred  to 
him.  He  went  back,  and,  lighting  a  candle,  he  rushed 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  183 

along  the  narrow  vaulted  entrance,  guided  by  the  noise, 
which  now  burst  more  loudly  on  his  ear. 

He  heard  the  voices  of  men  encouraging  each  other 
to  kill  some  one.  "Strike  her  down  —  silence  her  — 
beat  her  brains  out!"  Then  the  voice  of  Martha 
Trapbois,  almost  exhausted,  repeated  the  cries  of 
"Help — murder ! "  which  had  so  effectually  aroused  him. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  last  few  steps  was  a  small  door, 
through  which  Nigel  precipitated  himself  upon  the 
scene  of  action,  his  pistol  in  his  right  hand,  the  candle 
in  his  left,  and  a  naked  sword  under  his  arm. 

Two  ruffians  were  on  the  point  of  overpowering  the 
miser's  daughter.  She  had  made  a  desperate  resist- 
ance. Her  dress  was  torn  to  pieces.  One  ruffian  was 
attempting  to  strike  at  her  with  a  long  clasp-knife  when 
he  was  surprised  by  the  entrance  of  Nigel. 

They  turned  towards  him  at  once,  as  being  the  more 
dangerous  foe,  but  Nigel  shot  the  fellow  with  the  knife 
dead  on  the  spot.  Then,  advancing  towards  the  other, 
he  threw  the  candlestick  at  his  head  and  attacked  him 
with  the  sword.  It  was  dark,  but  there  was  some 
pale  moonlight  straggling  in  from  the  window.  The 
second  ruffian,  after  firing  a  pistol,  and  trying  a  pass 
or  two  with  the  sword,  lost  heart,  made  for  the  window, 
leaped  over  it,  and  so  escaped.  Nigel  fired  his  last 
pistol  after  him  at  a  venture,  and  then  called  for  a  light. 


184  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"There  is  light  in  the  kitchen!"  said  Martha  Trap- 
bois.  "Stay,  I  will  fetch  it.  You  do  not  know  the  way. 
Oh,  my  father,  my  father!  They  have  murdered  my 
father  1" 


When  Martha  Trapbois  returned  with  a  light,  a 
ghastly  scene  was  before  them.  On  the  floor  lay  the 
robber  whom  Nigel  had  shot.  He  had  died  without 
a  groan.  But  beside  him  was  another  body,  on  which 
the  miser's  daughter  threw  herself  in  agony.  It  was 
that  of  her  unhappy  father. 

"There  may  be  life  in  him  yet !"  she  cried,  striving  to 
lift  old  Trapbois  in  her  arms.  But  it  was  evident  that 
he  was  dead  —  a  scarf  had  been  drawn  tightly  about 
his  throat  to  stifle  his  cries  for  assistance.  It  is  indeed 
likely  that  he  had  died  in  defence  of  the  very  sovereign 
which  Nigel  had  given  him.  It  was  still  clasped  in 
his  dead  hand,  while  from  the  other  dropped  a  key. 

"It  is  in  vain  —  in  vain!"  said  Martha  Trapbois  at 
last;  "I  always  knew  that  it  would  be  so,  and  now  I 
have  witnessed  it." 

Nigel  ascended  to  his  room  to  recharge  his  weapons. 
Then  Martha  went  to  Duke  Hildebrod's  to  claim 
assistance.  Nigel  was  left  alone  with  the  dead  bodies. 
He  thought  that  he  could  hear  the  damask  nightgown 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  185 

of  the  miser  flutter  about  his  thin  legs,  the  foot  of 
the  dead  assassin  scraping  the  floor  in  vain  attempts 
to  rise,  or  the  breathing  of  new  assailants  under  the 
window ! 

Then  entered  a  gang  of  tragic  drunkards,  fresh  from 
the  revels  at  Duke  Hildebrod's,  stumbling  stupidly 
among  the  bodies,  and  speaking  to  each  other  in  thick, 
stammering  whispers.  The  Duke  took  evidence  well 
and  rapidly,  examining  Martha  and  afterwards  Nigel, 
looking  first  at  the  scarf  left  behind  and  then  at  the 
open  bars  of  the  window  through  which  the  men  had 
come,  by  which  also  the  survivor  had  escaped. 

The  suspicions  of  both  the  miser's  daughter  and 
Duke  Hildebrod  were  fixed  on  the  Captain  Colepepper, 
called  Peppercull.  Martha  offered  money  for  revenge, 
and  Duke  Hildebrod  promised  her  justice  in  exchange. 

Before  leaving,  the  Duke  introduced  a  messenger 
from  Lowestoffe  to  Nigel.  A  warrant  from  the  Lord 
Chief  Justice  had  been  issued  and  would  be  put  in 
force  to-morrow.  A  party  of  musketeers  would  search 
Alsatia  for  him,  a  force  which  the  Alsatians  neither 
could  nor  yet  would  resist. 

"And  so,  squire,"  said  the  man  in  the  green  plush 
jerkin,  who  had  carried  it,  "my  wherry  lies  for  you  at 
the  Temple  stairs,  and  if  you  would  give  the  blood- 
hounds the  slip  —  why,  you  may!" 


i86  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"Did  Master  Lowestoffe  send  me  any  token?"  said 
Nigel,  a  little  suspiciously. 

"Ay,  that  did  he,"  said  the  man,  "and  I  have  not 
forgot  it.  You  were  to  believe  me  —  because  your 
name  began  with  an  *O'  for  Graeme.  Well,  shall  we 
meet  in  two  hours,  and  go  down  the  river  with  the  tide 
like  a  twelve-oared  barge?" 

"Where  is  the  King?"  demanded  Lord  Glenvarloch. 

"The  King  went  to  Greenwich  yesterday.  He  was 
to  have  hunted  this  week,  but  instead  they  are  all  down 
the  river,  and  as  merry  as  minnows." 

"Well,"  said  Nigel,  "I  shall  be  ready  at  five,  and  do 
you  come  here  and  carry  my  baggage." 

"Ay,  ay,  master,"  said  the  man,  taking  his  leave 
along  with  the  disorderly  rout  of  Duke  Hildebrod, 
which  was  also  ebbing  away  after  that  functionary  had 
"set  the  seals"  upon  the  chamber  of  death. 

To  Martha  Trapbois,  Nigel  explained  that  he  was 
under  the  necessity  of  leaving  Whitefriars  within  a  few 
hours.  He  wished  to  know  if  she  desired  him  to  com- 
municate her  position  to  any  friends. 

She  cut  him  short  —  ungraciously  as  ever. 

"The  miserable  have  no  friends,"  she  said  bitterly. 
Then,  changing  her  mind  quickly,  she  added,  "You 
are  about  to  leave  the  Friars.  I  will  go  with  you  — 
I  will  persuade  my  father  —  " 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  187 

But  then  all  that  had  passed  crowded  in  upon  her 
memory.  She  wept  bitterly,  but  even  the  tears  calmed 
her.  She  declared  that  her  mind  was  made  up.  Here 
she  had  no  friends.  She  would  go  with  Nigel.  Other- 
wise she  had  no  chance  of  escaping  from  Alsatia. 

Nigel  attempted  to  dissuade  her.  His  own  way  in 
all  probability  lay  straight  to  a  dungeon.  Why  should 
she  put  herself  into  like  danger  ?  But  Martha  Trapbois 
was  willing  to  take  all  risks,  that  she  might  escape  out 
of  this  haunt  of  robbers  and  murderers.  More  than 
that,  she  would  take  her  money  with  her,  if  only  to 
purchase  vengeance  upon  the  slayers  of  her  father. 

She  bade  Nigel  return  to  the  room  where  the  miser 
had  slept.  He  must  push  the  bedstead  aside.  Be- 
neath each  of  the  posts  he  would  find  a  brass  plate  as 
if  to  support  the  weight.  But  he  was  to  press  the 
corner  of  that  nearest  to  the  wall  on  the  left.  It  would 
spring  up,  and  through  the  trap-door  a  small  chest 
would  be  seen. 

Nigel  did  not  quite  like  his  task.  But  Martha  both 
encouraged  and  accompanied  him.  The  bed  of  the 
miser  showed  the  trace  of  the  slight  pressure  of  his 
body.  He  had  been  surprised  when  asleep.  What 
he  had  striven  so  long  to  conceal  was  soon  laid  bare. 
The  strong-box  was  so  heavy  that,  without  Martha's 
assistance,  Nigel  could  hardly  have  lifted  it  out  of  its  bed. 


i88  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

He  also  tore  down  an  old  hanging,  to  form  a  cover, 
lest  the  peculiar  shape  and  weight  might  raise  suspi- 
cions as  to  its  contents.  Then  Nigel  changed  the 
rascally  suit  in  which  he  had  first  appeared  in  Alsatia 
for  one  more  courtly  and  becoming  his  quality. 

The  boatman  came  at  his  hour,  just  when  the 
yellow-grey  light  was  beginning  to  shine  through  the 
Thames  fogs.  He  had  a  companion  with  him.  There 
was,  however,  trouble  about  the  baggage.  One  of  the 
men  was  sufficiently  loaded  (in  his  own  estimation, 
that  is)  with  Lord  Glenvarloch's  scanty  "traps." 
But  the  moving  of  the  miser's  treasure  chest  was  another 
matter.  The  second  boatman,  after  one  attempt, 
pitched  it  down,  declaring  that  it  was  as  reasonable  to 
expect  a  man  to  carry  St.  Paul's  on  his  back! 

"Let  them  leave  it!"  said  Martha  Trapbois;  "let 
them  leave  everything  so  be  that  we  may  escape  from 
this  horrible  place." 

But  Nigel  was  very  strong  and  very  athletic,  even  for 
a  time  when  all  had  to  be  athletic.  Also  he  was  very 
indignant  at  this  treatment.  So  he  slung  the  pon- 
derous strong-box  upon  his  own  shoulders  and  marched 
off  with  it  —  the  waterman  following  in  amazement 
and  some  remorse,  calling  out,  "Why,  master,  master, 
you  might  as  well  gie  me  t'other  end  on't!" 

Nigel  was  fain  to  accept,  for  the  chest  was  so  heavy 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS          189 

that  when  it  was  at  length  brought  to  the  wherry,  it 
sank  the  bow  of  the  boat  so  deep  as  nearly  to  upset  it. 

There  was  almost  another  waterman's  rebellion 
when  Martha  Trapbois  got  ready  to  come  aboard. 

Nigel  proposed  to  pay  double  fare,  but  this  was 
refused  with  characteristic  rudeness  by  the  waterman 
in  the  green  jacket.  His  comrade,  however,  thought 
otherwise.  For  double  fare,  they  were,  according  to 
the  proverb,  "bound  to  row  a  witch  in  her  egg-shell !" 

When  they  got  out  into  the  stream  they  found  them- 
selves the  butt  for  all  sorts  of  water-side  wit.  The 
sailors  and  lightermen  made  merry  on  the  good  looks 
of  Nigel  in  comparison  with  the  extreme  plainness  of 
Mistress  Martha.  Green  Jacket  and  his  companion, 
however,  proved  themselves  fully  capable  of  replying 
in  the  same  strain.  Nigel  asked  Martha  if  she  knew 
of  any  place  where  she  could  be  received  safely.  The 
miser's  daughter  knew  of  none.  To  assist  her  father, 
and  to  remain  near  him,  she  had  cast  off  all  her  friends. 

Then  Nigel  bethought  himself  of  John  Christie, 
the  ship-chandler  at  Paul's  Wharf,  where  he  had 
formerly  lodged.  He  wrote  a  note  upon  his  tablet, 
addressed  to  his  landlord,  asking  John  Christie,  as  his 
old  and  good  friend,  to  afford  her  the  shelter  of  his 
roof  for  a  short  time.  Accordingly  St.  Paul's  Wharf 
was  reached  and  the  lady  put  ashore  —  two  porters 


i9o  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

being  engaged  to  carry  her  box  to  the  well-known  house 
of  John  Christie,  while  the  boat,  lightened  of  its  load, 
went  on  its  voyage  down  the  Thames  by  so  much  the 
faster. 

But  when  Martha  Trapbois  reached  the  house  of 
the  ship-chandler,  she  hesitated.  She  knew  the  power 
and  the  danger  of  so  great  a  sum  when  in  the  possession 
of  a  woman.  The  events  of  the  night  were  still  fresh 
in  her  mind.  Besides,  a  quarrel  was  proceeding,  and 
a  tall,  raw-boned,  hard-favoured  man  stalked  forth 
followed  by  a  decent  elderly  tradesman.  The  subject  of 
quarrel  was  no  other  than  Lord  Glenvarloch,  whom 
the  ship-chandler  was  accusing  of  having  in  some  way 
wronged  him. 

Martha  was  of  course  too  well  accustomed  to  the 
squabbles  and  quarrels  of  Alsatia  to  be  either  surprised 
or  terrified.  She  stopped  John  Christie  and  presented 
him  with  Lord  Glenvarloch's  letter.  But  the  angry 
ship-chandler  threw  it  on  the  ground  and  retired  into 
his  house  with  a  hearty  curse  on  all  smooth-tongued 
Scots  knaves,  including  those  who  brought  him  letters 
from  them. 

Martha  could  only  call  out,  —  though  not  of  a  tem- 
perament which  bent  itself  easily  to  ask  favours,  — 
"Good  master,  hear  me  for  a  moment,  for  mercy's 
sake,  for  honesty's  sake!" 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  191 

"No  hope  of  'mercy  or  honesty'  from  him,  mistress ! 
He  is  horn-mad ! "  said  the  Scot  (who  of  course  was  no 
other  than  Ritchie  Monyplies  defending  the  honour  of 
his  master  against  the  charge  of  having  carried  off 
Dame  Nelly).  Ritchie  lifted  the  paper  to  hand  to  her. 
But  as  he  did  so  the  signature  caught  his  eye. 

" Glenvarloch ? "  he  said  in  surprise;  "do  you  know 
Lord  Glenvarloch?" 

"I  had  the  paper  from  one  Nigel  Graeme,"  said  the 
daughter  of  Trapbois,  sulkily. 

"Nigel  Graeme!  Umpk  —  oh,  ay,  very  true!  I 
had  forgot,"  said  Richard;  "a  tall  well-set-up  young 
man  about  my  height,  bright  blue  eyes  like  a  hawk's, 
a  pleasant  speech,  somewhat  leaning  to  the  North 
Country  accent  like  my  own?" 

Martha  Trapbois  owned  that  all  this  was  very  true, 
but  did  not  see  what  this  other  Scot  with  the  red  head 
had  to  do  with  it. 

"And  so,"  continued  Ritchie,  who  made  no  scruple  to 
read  the  letter  of  his  master,  "if  honourable  lodging 
and  shelter  is  all  you  are  seeking,  I,  who  am  Nigel 
Graeme's  servant,  can  help  you  to  it" 

"These  are  all  I  need,"  said  Martha,  "and  as  you 
are  a  man  and  a  Christian,  you  will  help  me  to  them !" 

"A  man  I  am,"  said  Richie,  "and  as  much  of  a 
Christian  as  any  one  can  be  after  all  this  while  in  Eng- 


i92  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

land,  where  there  is  but  little  pure  doctrine  —  all  being 
polluted  with  men's  devices.  If  ye  be  an  honest 
woman  (here  he  peeped  under  her  muffler),  as  an  honest 
woman  ye  seem  likely  to  be,  I  will  advise  you  of  a  decent 
house  where  you  will  get  douce,  quiet  entertainment 
on  reasonable  terms,  as  well  as  the  occasional  benefit 
of  my  own  counsel  and  direction." 

Thus  Martha  Trapbois,  for  all  her  wealth,  did  not 
find  any  more  notable  protector  than  honest  Richard 
Monyplies,  the  discarded  serving-man  of  Nigel,  Lord 
Glenvarloch. 

THE  RECEPTION  OF  SWEETHEART'S  TALES   CONCERNING 
TRAPBOIS,   THE  MISER 

There  was  a  subtle  triumph  on  the  face  of  Sweet- 
heart as  she  leaned  back  to  take  breath. 

"As  good  as  Treasure  Island?"  she  suggested 
softly. 

"As  good  as  anything,"  said  Hugh  John.  "Why 
didn't  Sir  Walter  always  make  his  heroes  like  that?" 

"Like  what?"  said  Sweetheart. 

"Oh,  you  know  —  don't  pretend,  Sis!" 

"Yes,  of  course  she  knows,"  said  Sir  Toady,  break- 
ing out;  "she's  as  pleased  as  a  stroked  pussy  about 
Trapbois  and  all  that." 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  193 

"And  right  she  is,"  Toady  Lion  continued,  after  a 
pause  of  deep  thought.  ' '  Nigel  is  the  proper  sort  of  hero, 
after  all.  No  more  silly  gambling,  but  bang  —  whack 
—  candlestick  at  one  fellow's  head — bullet  into  another. 
He  never  gives  a  kick.  And  only  one  left  to  get  away, 
so  that  there  might  be  a  good  chase  after  him,  with 
more  fighting,  and  no  end  of  a  row!" 

"Listen  to  Admiral  Tuppens!"  said  Hugh  John, 
indicating  Sir  Toady  vigorously  with  his  toe;  "dear 
little  cherub  that  sits  up  aloft  and  watches  the  fate  of 
Poor  Jack!" 

"No,  we  don't,"  said  the  expert ;  "no  officer  is  allowed 
to  sit  down  when  on  the  bridge!" 

"De-e-e-ar  child,"  continued  his  elder  brother, 
"fighting  and  rows  and  head-breaking.  These  are 
his  joys  —  to  hear  him  talk,  anyway.  In  reality,  what 
he  cares  about  is  pottering  through  the  woods  after 
birds'  eggs,  and — " 

"Watching  the  nesting  habits  of  the  Common  Buz- 
zard through  a  x  25  power  Aitchison  field -glass !  And 
father  says  there  isn't  anything  much  more  interesting 
in  the  world  than  that !" 

This  was  Sir  Toady  turning  the  tables  on  his  brother 
by  bringing  me  into  the  question.  It  was,  in  another 
form,  an  appeal  to  Caesar. 

Still,  there  was  no  doubt  that,  in  the  present  case, 


194 


RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 


Sweetheart  had  scored  a  success.  She  had  marked 
the  centre  of  the  bull's-eye,  and  Maid  Margaret  nestled 
up  to  her  with  tacit  congratulation. 

As  for  me,  I  thought  it  was  a  good  moment  for  pro- 
ducing a  real  new  golden  sovereign  which  I  had  got 
from  the  Bank  that  day. 

I  handed  it  over  to  Sweetheart,  telling  her  that  she 
had  told  quite  the  worth  of  it,  and  that  we  were  ready 
for  more  whenever  she  felt  like  it. 

But  like  a  wise  young  woman,  she  preferred  to  rest 
on  her  laurels  and  pocket  the  coin.  She  spent  the  rest 
of  the  day  in  paying  various  debts,  arranging  for  Sir 
Toady's  birthday  present,  advancing  infinitesimal  sums 
to  a  little  lady  called  upon  occasion  the  "Undischarged 
Bankrupt" — owing  to  a  chronic  inability  to  pay 
twenty  shillings  in  the  pound  —  or  rather  twelve 
pennies  in  the  shilling. 

Then  it  was  discovered  that  the  boys  were  missing  — 
"Them  Boys"  —  as  James  the  gardener  called  them 
when  they  trampled  his  careful  flower-plots  or  made 
havoc  among  the  half-ripe  gooseberries. 

Moreover,  the  Fortunes  of  Nigel  in  the  illustrated 
Abbotsford  edition  was  wanting  also. 

There  was  no  doubt  as  to  who  had  taken  it,  and  as 
the  purpose  was  almost  equally  clear,  the  seniors  inter- 
ested started  at  once  in  pursuit,  laying  aside  work- 
basket  and  pen. 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  195 

It  was  a  clear  evening  after  heavy  rain.  Eden 
Water  was  in  flood.  There  was  no  good  dry  accommo- 
dation on  the  grass — neither  under  the  leaves  of  the 
forest  trees.  But  I  knew  the  spot,  down  by  the  water- 
side, where  there  is  a  thick  square  of  wall  —  perhaps 
the  spring  of  the  arch  of  some  bridge  long  since  dis- 
appeared. But  to  the  boys,  beyond  all  dispute,  the 
remains  of  an  ancient  fortress ! 

We  could  peep  over  and  observe  the  group  below. 
The  murmur  of  a  voice  came  regular  and  clear.  On 
tiptoe  we  looked  over  the  hedge,  and  there,  near  enough 
to  be  touched  by  the  staff  in  my  hand,  was  Butcher 
Donnan  in  his  blue  blouse,  the  "steel"  of  his  profession 
laid  across  his  knees  and  his  eyes,  injected  and  wide 
open,  fixed  on  the  reader. 

Beside  him  crouched  his  son  Nipper,  with  several 
of  the  more  worthy  of  the  Edam  boys,  listening  to  the 
marvellous  tale  of  the  Death  of  Miser  Trapbois. 
Nipper's  mouth  was  so  wide  open  that  Sir  Toady 
occupied  his  leisure  in  trying  to  pitch  haw-berries  into 
it,  flipping  them  knowingly  with  his  thumb-nail  in 
a  way  familiar  to  all  boys. 

But  Nipper  never  so  much  as  looked  in  his  direction. 
Only  the  reader,  Hugh  John,  annoyed  by  the  frivolity 
of  the  interruption,  ordered  him  sharply  to  "Stop 
that  — you!" 


196  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Butcher  Donnan,  now  a  Scott  enthusiast,  could  not 
keep  still.  His  fingers  played  about  his  steel  as  if  it 
were  a  dagger.  It  was  clear  to  be  seen  that  if  only 
he  had  been  in  the  house  of  Trapbois  that  night,  Nigel 
would  not  have  had  to  do  his  fighting  single-handed. 

"'Brave  young  lord'  —  yes,  that  he  were,  lord  or  no 
lord ! "  The  words  came  from  the  equally  brave  heart 
that  beat  beneath  the  blue  overalls  of  Butcher  Donnan. 
The  wearer  did  not,  in  a  general  way,  approve  of  lords 
temporal.  But  this  one  seemed  quite  worth  his  salt. 

"He  heard  the  poor  lass  cry,  and  he  went  a-bursting 
in  without  knowing  but  what  there  might  have  been 
a  round  dozen  of  them.  Nipper  —  you  hear  that!" 

Nipper  heard.  With  his  mouth  he  would  have 
heard,  even  if  the  ordinary  channels  had  been  closed 
off.  But  he  was  so  eager  for  the  story  to  go  on  that 
he  did  not  even  answer  his  father.  Not  that  it  was 
necessary. 

Butcher  Donnan  knew  that  Nipper  heard.  He  had 
trained  him  to  hear  the  paternal  voice  through  the  deep- 
est slumber  possible  to  mortal  boy.  Nipper  was  not, 
save  in  this  one  thing,  a  model  boy.  But  he  respected 
the  fifth  commandment  —  that  one  which  begins 
"Honour  thy  father!"  For  he  knew  that  it  was  the 
commandment  "with  promise" — particularly  in  the 
breach ! 


TALES   CONCERNING   TRAPBOIS  197 

It  was  evident  to  us  that  Sweetheart's  seed  had 
not  fallen  on  barren  ground.  Butcher  Donnan  asked 
the  price  of  "that  there  history  book,"  and  from  the 
deadly  implacable  looks  on  the  faces  of  the  younger 
listeners,  it  was  evident  that  many  wretched  miserly 
Trapboises  would  be  saved,  many  unknown  villains 
bite  the  dust  —  always  supposing,  that  is,  that  there 
were  any  misers  or  villains  to  be  shot  down  and  assas- 
sinated. For  it  was  quite  evident  that  every  boy 
present,  including  Butcher  Donnan  of  the  grey  locks, 
was,  in  his  own  imagination,  one  more  valorous  Nigel, 
Lord  of  Glenvarloch. 

Silently  we  stole  away.  The  Abbotsford  Nigel 
was  a  beautiful  copy,  the  binding  green  morocco,  the 
paper  unfoxed,  the  wood-engravings  some  of  the  finest 
the  world  ever  saw.  But  nevertheless  we  left  it  to 
pass  rashly  from  hand  to  hand.  For  it  was  missionary 
endeavour  of  the  true  kind.  He  cannot  be  a  bad  man 
who  loves  his  Waverley  truly  and  from  the  heart. 
If  cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness,  surely  Sir  Walter  is 
the  best  mixture  of  both  attainable  in  letters. 


Having  arrived  at  the  age  of  discretion,  Sweetheart 
could  not  quite  tell  her  tales  before  the  butchers'  boys 
of  Edam.  Well,  perhaps  she  might,  but  old-fashioned 


i98  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

though  not  unrespectable  prejudices  forbade  it!  But 
the  boys,  two  long-legged  birds  of  the  air,  readily 
carried  the  matter.  It  came  all  the  better  at  second- 
hand, riddled  with  the  free  slang  of  boys  fresh  from 
school,  every  word  of  uncertain  meaning  expounded 
by  vigorous  translation  into  the  language  of  living  and 
fighting  Edam. 

Unconsciously,  too,  betwixt  reading,  furnishing  links 
and  explanations,  the  boys  were  preparing  for  their 
own  trials  yet  to  come.  The  golden  Edwards  were 
nearer  to  them  because  of  Nipper  Donnan  and  his 
blue-bloused  father  with  the  dangling  steel. 

In  retelling  Sweetheart  and  "reading  the  best  bits," 
they  were  learning  how  to  tell  the  stories  which  Sir 
Walter  wove,  so  marvellously,  so  easily,  lifting  the 
difficult  threads  of  his  story  as  if  he  had  been  playing 
cats'  cradle,  and  inventing  deathless  characters  — 
"another  one  before  dinner,"  as  a  friend  of  mine  says. 


SWEETHEART'S  FOURTH  TALE  FROM  "THE 
FORTUNES  OF  NIGEL" 

THE  TRAITOR'S  GATE 

You  know  how  Nigel  had  heard  (continued  Sweet- 
heart) that  the  King  was  to  hunt  that  day  in  Green- 


THE   TRAITOR'S   GATE  199 

wich  Park.  In  spite  of  Green  Jacket,  the  waterman, 
and  his  comrade,  in  spite  of  the  good  ship  Royal 
Thistle  which  was  to  convey  him  to  Scotland,  Nigel 
resolved  to  make  a  direct  attempt  to  see  the  King  and 
lay  his  case  before  him. 

He  was  therefore  put  ashore,  after  writing  a  certifi- 
cate to  the  green- jacketed  waterman  that  he  had 
demanded  to  be  set  down  at  Greenwich  of  his  own 
accord  —  furthermore  that  Jack-o'-the-green  and  his 
companion  were  ready  and  willing  to  carry  out  their 
promise  to  set  him  on  board  the  Royal  Thistle. 

Nigel  went  first  to  a  barber's  to  have  his  hair  and 
beard  trimmed  and  put  into  order.  Then  he  found 
Linklater,  the  scullion  or  under-cook,  who  had  been 
the  means  of  first  bringing  Ritchie  Monyplies  into  the 
royal  presence.  He  had  become  a  high  kitchen  official, 
owing  to  his  aptitude  for  tickling  his  master's  palate 
with  what  he  called  "gusty  Scottish  dishes,"  unknown 
to  the  English  and  French  cooks  about  the  court. 

Hearing  the  sound  of  horns,  Nigel  went  into  the  park, 
and  had  the  good  fortune  to  come  on  the  King  when 
he  had  just  killed  a  buck.  Indeed,  it  was  not  till  all 
was  finished  that  King  James  observed  who  his  assistant 
was. 

At  last  the  King  looked,  and  the  blood  left  his  cheek 
as  he  recognized  Lord  Glenvarloch.  Instantly  he 


200  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

reached  the  conclusion  that  Nigel  was  about  to  commit 
an  assault  on  his  sacred  person. 

In  vain  Nigel  begged  him  to  be  composed  and  listen 
to  what  he  had  to  say.  But  this  James,  fearful  by 
nature,  could  by  no  means  do.  It  was  half  fear, 
half  a  ludicrous  kind  of  anger  that  his  dignity  was 
affronted.  He  kept  making  little  runs  at  his  horse 
and  trying  to  mount,  muttering  all  the  while :  "  We  are 
a  free  King,  man  —  we  are  a  free  King  —  we  will 
not  be  controlled  by  a  subject.  In  the  name  of  God, 
what  keeps  Steenie  ?  Hillo — ho — here,  here !  Steenie ! 
Steenie!" 

The  Duke  of  Buckingham  galloped  up,  calling  out 
that  fortune  as  usual  had  favoured  "our  Royal  Dad," 
as  he  was  accustomed  to  call  the  King. 

King  James,  being  now  safe,  began  to  feel  that  he 
had  escaped  from  great  peril.  He  might  have  been 
assassinated,  he  said,  and  no  one  would  have  been 
there  to  help  him  —  not  even  his  dear  Steenie. 

The  Duke  took  the  supposed  assault  as  having  been 
committed,  and  ordered  them  to  seize  Nigel. 

"Are  you  wounded,  my  liege?"  he  cried  affection- 
ately; "are  you  wounded?" 

"Not  that  I  ken  of,"  said  the  King;  "but  search  him. 
I  am  sure  I  saw  firearms  under  his  cloak.  I  am  sure  I 
smelled  powder!" 


THE   TRAITOR'S   GATE  201 

And  so  when  Nigel's  cloak  was  stripped  off  and  his 
pistols  were  discovered,  a  shout  of  execration  went  up 
from  the  crowd. 

"Away  with  the  wretch  —  the  parricide  —  the 
bloody-minded  villain ! "  The  words  were  echoed  on 
all  sides. 

And  the  King  himself  took  up  the  cry.  He  really 
began  to  believe  that  he  had  escaped  by  the  strength 
of  his  own  arm  from  a  dangerous  conspiracy. 

The  Prince  rode  up  hastily  and  asked  also  if  the 
King  were  hurt. 

"Not  that  I  am  sensible  of,  Baby  Charles,"  said  the 
King;  "only  a  wee  matter  exhausted  from  struggling 
single-handed  with  the  assassin.  Steenie,  fill  us  a  cup 
of  wine — the  leathern  bottle  is  hanging  at  our  pommel." 

Then  after  he  had  thus  taken  his  cup  of  comfort,  he 
continued,  "Buss  me,  Baby  Charles.  Oh,  man,  the 
Commonwealth  and  you  have  had  a  fair  escape  this  day ! 
Woe  is  me,  black  cloth  would  have  been  dear  in 
England,  and  dry  e'en  scarce!" 

And  at  the  very  idea  of  the  universal  grief  at  his  own 
death,  the  good-natured  monarch  cried  heartily  him- 
self. 

Prince  Charles,  however,  who  knew  his  parent, 
demanded  that  any  one  who  had  been  a  witness  of  the 
attempt  should  speak.  The  King  called  on  Bucking- 


202  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

ham  to  testify  if  he  had  not  seen  Nigel  struggling  with 
the  monarch. 

"I  cannot  term  it  so,  my  lord,"  said  the  Duke,  who, 
with  many  faults,  would  have  scorned  an  untruth; 
"he  seemed  rather  desirous  of  detaining  his  Majesty, 
who,  on  the  contrary,  appeared  to  wish  to  mount  his 
horse ! " 

The  Prince  unloaded  Nigel's  pistols  of  the  double 
bullets  with  which  they  were  charged.  Then  he 
reproached  Nigel  for  bringing  prohibited  weapons  into 
his  Majesty's  presence. 

Nigel  answered  that  he  wore  them  in  self-defence, 
and  that  only  an  hour  or  two  ago  they  were  necessary 
for  the  defence  of  the  lives  of  others. 

Nigel  boldly  demanded  a  hearing,  and  at  last  both 
the  King  and  the  Prince  promised  to  look  into  his 
case — "when  time  and  place  were  fitting,"  said  the 
former. 

When  Nigel  had  been  removed,  the  Prince  said  to 
Buckingham  that  he  could  hardly  believe  that  a  gentle- 
man of  such  happy  presence  and  good  countenance, 
who  behaved  with  such  calm  firmness  in  difficult 
circumstances,  could  really  have  attempted  to  commit 
a  crime  so  useless  and  desperate. 

Buckingham  answered  that  he  had  neither  love  nor 
favour  for  the  young  man,  but  that  he  agreed  with 


THE   TRAITOR'S   GATE  203 

the  Prince  that  "our  dear  gossip"  had  been  somewhat 
hasty  in  apprehending  personal  danger  from  him. 

"By  my  saul,  Steenie,"  cried  the  King,  "you  are  not 
blate  to  say  so  !  Who  nosed  out  the  Fifth  of  November, 
if  not  I?  And  now  ye  would  tell  me  that  I  cannot 
smell  powder?" 

Nigel  was  soon  put  into  a  boat  with  the  pursuivant, 
two  yeomen  of  the  guard,  and  rowed  as  fast  as  six 
stout  oarsmen  could  take  him  to  the  Tower  of  London 
by  way  of  the  projecting,  low-browed  archway  called 
Traitor's  Gate. 

The  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  said  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  place  Lord  Glenvarloch  under  some  restraint, 
but  that  he  would  make  it  as  easy  as  duty  permitted. 

Nigel  found  himself  in  a  long,  low  apartment,  with 
scanty  furniture,  in  which  the  warder  received  orders 
to  light  a  fire.  It  had  long  been  used  as  a  prison  of 
state,  and  Nigel,  while  waiting  events,  amused  himself 
by  deciphering  the  dainty  handwriting  of  Lady  Jane 
Grey,  the  Bear  and  Ragged  Staff  of  the  Dudleys,  the 
last  testimonies  of  Catholics  awaiting  the  cruel  mercies 
of  Elizabeth,  and  Protestants  for  whom  the  fires  of 
Smithfield  were  already  being  lighted. 

While  thus  employed  Nigel  was  suddenly  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  a  warder,  who  came  to  tell  him  that 
he  must  immediately  receive  a  fellow-prisoner,  who 


204  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

would  furnish  both  company  and,  if  necessary,  at- 
tendance also. 

But  Nigel  wished  for  neither  —  only  to  be  left  alone. 
However,  the  warder  told  him  that  the  Lieutenant  was 
the  best  judge  of  how  his  prisoners  should  be  accom- 
modated, adding  that  the  boy  was  "such  a  slip  of  a 
thing  as  hardly  to  be  worth  while  turning  a  key  upon." 

The  lad  was  brought  in  trembling  with  confusion 
and  terror.  Nigel,  though  he  would  fain  have  been 
alone,  tried  to  cheer  him  up,  telling  him  that  one  so 
young  could  not  have  done  anything  to  keep  him  long 
in  such  a  place. 

"Think  that  you  have  been  shut  up  here  for  playing 
truant,"  he  said,  "and  though  you  have  no  beard  as 
yet,  do  not  dishonour  your  manhood  by  crying  like 
a  girl!" 

But  the  intense  agony  of  his  companion  affected 
Nigel,  who  sat  down  beside  him  and  tried  to  console 
him.  He  drew  his  hand  over  the  boy's  long  curls, 
but  was  astonished  to  note  that  he  shrank  away  from 
even  that  light  touch. 

Nigel,  therefore,  sat  down  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
hearth  and  began  to  question  his  companion. 

"Tell  me  who  and  what  you  are,"  he  said ;  "consider 
me  as  a  companion  who  wishes  to  be  kind  to  you,  if 
only  he  knew  how." 


THE   TRAITOR'S   GATE  205 

But  all  the  answer  he  could  extract  was  only  that  the 
boy  was  unhappy. 

"You  are  very  good,  sir,  —  my  lord,  I  mean,  —  and 
I  —  am  very  unhappy !  What  is  worse,  I  have  only 
myself  to  thank  for  my  misfortunes." 

"That,"  said  Nigel,  smiling,  "is  the  rule  with  the 
misfortunes  which  we  are  unhappy  about.  But  you 
are  so  young  —  you  can  have  very  little  to  answer  for." 

"Indeed,"  said  the  boy,  "there  is  no  harm  about  me. 
I  am  innocent.  That  is,  I  have  done  wrong,  but 
nothing  to  deserve  being  put  into  this  frightful  place. 
I  left  my  father's  house  without  leave  to  see  the  King's 
hunt  in  Greenwich  Park.  There  came  a  cry  of  treason, 
and  the  gates  were  shut.  Then  I  was  found  by  some 
rangers,  and  as  they  said  I  could  give  no  good  account 
of  myself,  I  was  sent  here!" 

Nigel  observed  that  the  boy's  story  sounded  strangely. 
If  he  had  told  his  name  and  his  means  of  getting  into 
the  park,  surely  they  would  have  let  him  go. 

But  the  boy  had  not  told  his  name  to  the  rangers, 
and  would  not  do  so  to  Nigel.  He  had,  he  said,  told 
too  much  already  to  one  whose  heart  he  had  hoped  to 
move.  More  he  would  not  say. 

Nigel  offered  him  his  couch  to  rest  upon,  but  the  boy 
preferred  to  remain  in  his  great  chair,  drawing  his 
cloak  about  him  so  as  to  hide  his  face.  Meanwhile 


206  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

Nigel  continued  his  pensive  walk  to  and  fro  in  his 
prison  cell. 

But  he  was  to  have  other  visitors  to  try  his  patience 
more  severely  —  first  of  all  John  Christie,  who  came  to 
ask  concerning  Dame  Nelly,  and  departed  still  un- 
believing, though  Nigel  assured  him  over  and  over 
again  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter  of  his  loss. 

After  the  ship-chandler  was  gone,  Nigel  looked 
again  at  his  companion,  who  appeared  to  have  been 
weeping,  and  sleeping  at  the  same  time.  He  was  not 
long  in  finding  out  that  the  lad  was  only  a  girl  dressed 
in  boy's  clothes ! 

Nevertheless,  Nigel  renewed  his  offers  of  service,  if 
she  would  tell  him  her  name,  adding  that  from  him  she 
had  nothing  to  fear. 

The  meal  that  was  now  served  to  the  two  was  ample 
and  well-cooked,  and  as  they  partook  of  it  Nigel  could 
see  at  once  that  his  companion  had  been  well  brought 
up.  She  behaved  with  the  most  decorous  grace  and 
charm,  and  her  dress  added  to  the  strange  fascination 
she  was  beginning  to  exercise  over  Nigel  —  a  feeling 
so  strong  as  to  make  him  forget  his  own  danger. 

Hardly  was  the  meal  over,  and  his  companion  re- 
turned to  her  great  chair,  than  a  second  visitor  was 
announced,  no  other  than  George  Heriot.  The  jeweller 
was  very  angry  —  or  at  least  appeared  to  be  so.  He 


THE  TRAITOR'S   GATE  207 

rated  Nigel  for  his  past  conduct  —  his  gambling,  his 
ill  name  even  among  those  with  whom  he  habitually 
associated,  his  supposed  carrying  off  of  Dame  Nelly, 
the  disappearance  of  Martha  Trapbois,  and  other 
matters. 

But  Nigel,  while  acknowledging  his  faults  and  mis- 
takes, denied  all  that  was  serious  in  the  accusation. 

In  order  to  prove  the  truth  of  his  word  he  sent  for 
his  casket,  to  show  the  papers  contained  in  it.  They 
were  all  there,  but  —  the  King's  order  for  the  Glenvar- 
loch  money  had  disappeared  I 

Whereupon  Heriot  accused  Nigel  of  having  pledged 
it  for  some  petty  sum.  Nigel  could  only  say  that  if 
the  old  lands  of  Olifaunt  must  go,  —  firth  and  forest, 
lea  and  furrow,  lake  and  stream,  —  well,  then,  good-by 
to  them ! 

"Zounds  I"  cried  Heriot,  "you  are  enough  to  make  a 
saint  swear!  Does  the  loss  sit  so  light  on  you?  Is 
that  all  you  have  to  say?  S'death,  my  lord,  you  will 
make  more  moan  for  it  ere  you  die!" 

"Not  I,  my  old  friend,"  said  Nigel.  "If  I  mourn, 
Master  Heriot,  it  will  be  for  having  lost  the  good 
opinion  of  a  worthy  man  —  and  lost  it,  as  I  must  add, 
most  undeservedly." 

"Undeservedly !"  said  the  jeweller ;  "you  will  as  soon 
make  me  believe  that  this  masquerading  mummer  on 


2o8  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

whom  I  now  lay  the  hand  of  parental  authority  is 
your  French  page  who  speaks  no  English!" 

So  saying,  he  snatched  away  the  page's  cloak,  some- 
what unceremoniously,  and  revealed  to  full  view  the 
daughter  of  the  old  watchmaker,  and  his  own  god- 
daughter, pretty  Mistress  Margaret  Ramsay. 

"Here  is  goodly  gear!"  he  cried,  giving  the  girl  a 
shake  for  her  naughty  wilfulness  ;  "and  I  have  a  great 
mind  to  make  her  smart  for  her  folly  on  the  spot !" 

"Master  Heriot,"  said  Nigel,  "whatever  rights  you 
have  over  this  maiden  elsewhere,  remember  that  while 
in  my  apartment  she  is  under  my  protection." 

"A  very  proper  protector !"  cried  Heriot ;  "and  pray 
how  long  have  you  been  under  my  lord's  kind  pro- 
tection?" 

"For  two  hours,"  said  Margaret,  blushing;  "but  it 
was  against  my  will." 

"No  doubt  —  no  doubt !"  said  Heriot ;  "so  his  lord- 
ship here  will  take  oath,  but  methinks  some  of  his 
words  want  a  warrant." 

"Godfather,"  said  Margaret,  who  began  to  recover 
her  natural  spirits,  "I  cannot  be  silent.  You  do  me 
wrong.  Also  you  wrong  this  young  nobleman.  You 
say  his  words  want  a  warrant.  Well,  I  know  where  to 
find  a  warrant  for  some  of  them,  and  the  rest  I  devoutly 
believe  without  one!" 


THE   TRAITOR'S    GATE  209 

George  Heriot  demanded  a  clear  explanation  from 
his  god-daughter  of  how  she  came  to  be  in  this  place. 
Margaret  told  him  that  she  had  gone  down  that  morn- 
ing to  Greenwich  Park  with  Monna  Paula,  the  Lady  t 
Hermione's  waiting-maid,  to  present  a  petition  to  the 
King. 

" Gad-a-mercy ! "  cried  Heriot,  "is  she  in  the  dance, 
too?  Could  she  not  have  waited  my  return  before 
moving  in  her  affairs?  But  what  had  this  petition  to 
do  with  your  present  absurd  disguise?" 

"Mohna  was  frightened,"  said  Margaret  Ramsay, 
"and  I  promised  to  go  with  her  to  give  her  courage. 
And  as  for  the  dress,  you  must  surely  remember  that 
I  wore  it  at  a  Christmas  mumming,  and  you  thought  it 
not  unbeseeming." 

"Yes,  for  a  Christmas  parlour,"  said  Heriot,  "but 
not  to  gad  up  and  down  the  country  in." 

"When  the  alarm  arose  in  the  park  and  the  gates 
were  shut,"  Margaret  continued,  "I  ran  till  I  fell  into 
the  arms  of  a  very  decent  serving-man,  one  named 
Linklater.  I  told  him  I  was  your  god-daughter.  So. 
he  kept  the  rest  from  me,  and  even  got  me  speech  with 
his  Majesty,  as  I  entreated  him  to  do!" 

"The  only  sign  you  have  showed  all  through  that 
common  sense  had  not  utterly  deserted  your  little 
skull!"  said  Heriot.  "Now  I  will  escort  you  back 


2io  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

to  the  Lady  Mansell  and  tell  her  that  when  next  she 
is  intrusted  with  a  goose,  she  must  not  give  it  to  the 
fox  to  keep!" 

As  Nigel  stood  watching  Margaret  Ramsay  go  out 
on  the  arm  of  her  godfather,  he  made  her  a  profound 
bow,  which  somehow  had  the  art  of  calling  the  happy 
flush  to  her  face. 

She  returned  his  farewell  timidly,  clung  to  George 
Heriot's  arm,  and  when  the  door  shut,  the  apartment, 
dark  before,  appeared  to  the  prisoner  ever  so  much 
darker. 

$  $  #  :fc  $  $  $ 

THE  END  OF  SWEETHEART'S  FOURTH  TALE  FROM  "THE 
FORTUNES   OF  NIGEL" 

The  senate  was  sitting.  Sweetheart  had  finished  her 
tale  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  saving  something  good 
for  the  last.  The  boys,  being  experienced,  knew  ex- 
actly what  to  make  of  that.  But  it  was  more  difficult 
to  explain  to  Nipper  Donnan  and  his  father. 

Butcher  Donnan  had  been  so  delighted  with  the 
Tale  of  Trapbois  that  this  time  he  had  not  only  come 
himself  to  the  Feudal  Tower,  but  had  brought  two 
friends  with  him. 

One  of  these,  in  leather  leggings  and  stout  velveteens, 
was  John  Chesnay,  the  gamekeeper,  over  at  Colonel 


AN  ARTIST   FOR  ART'S   SAKE  211 

Davenant  Carter's.  The  second  was  George  Elphin- 
stone  (called  Elphie),  who  was  supposed  to  know  more 
about  game  than  the  gamekeeper  himself.  On  the 
hill,  on  the  moor,  along  the  riverside,  these  two  were 
embattled  enemies.  For  "Elphie,"  patrolling  the 
roads,  mending  here  a  culvert,  and  there  planning  out 
a  "barrow"  of  stones  to  be  broken,  could  keep  his  eye 
all  day  on  the  comings  and  goings  of  the  game. 

And  from  the  height  of  a  knoll  on  the  hillside,  deep- 
hidden  among  the  heather,  or  with  his  face  glued  to  a 
hole  in  the  dry  stone  dike,  John  Chesnay  kept  his  eye 
upon  Elphie.  For  Elphie  was  a  poacher  —  but  by 
no  means  a  common,  sell-them-in-the-nearest-town,  pot- 
hunting  poacher.  Elphie  had  as  good  a  wage  as  the 
gamekeeper.  He  was  a  poacher  for  pleasure,  an  artist 
for  art's  sake  —  though  all  the  same  he  could  enjoy 
a  pheasant  done  to  a  turn  by  his  wife  Eliza.  Only  he 
did  the  carving  himself,  and  insisted  on  bread  crumbs ! 
Thus  you  see  Elphie  was  very  far  indeed  from  being 
an  ordinary  poacher.  He  was  rather  "a  man  who 
poached"  — a  very  different  thing,  as  all  gamekeepers 
know. 

I  can  see  Elphie  yet,  hammering  away  at  his  pile  of 
wayside  stones,  or  with  his  goggles  pushed  up  to  give 
his  eyes  a  rest  as  he  talked  —  for  he  dearly  loved  a 
gossip,  no  man  more. 


212  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Our  boys  admired  both.  But  each  was  a  partisan. 
As  usual,  Hugh  John  stood  for  law  and  order.  He 
was  of  the  gamekeeper's  faction.  He  did  not  wander 
the  woods  with  Sir  Toady  in  quest  of  eggs,  nor  yet 
bring  home  surreptitious  game  which  he  had  "found" 
—  in  the  company,  doubtless,  of  the  aforesaid  Elphie. 

True,  Hugh  John  did  not  spoil  sport,  but  he  did  not 
wish  the  honour  of  the  house  and  of  his  Majesty's 
Navy  to  be  sullied  by  night  poaching  upon  friendly 
ground.  He  would  therefore  remark  casually,  after  a 
visit  to  the  keeper's  cottage,  "It's  going  to  be  a  stormy 
night  —  you  stop  at  home,  Toadums,  you  hear!" 

And  owing  to  circumstances  (connected  with  fist 
law  and  some  three  years'  difference  of  age),  the  orna- 
ment of  the  senior  service  stayed  where  he  was.  But 
on  the  neutral  ground  of  "Sir  Walter"  all  three  men 
were  free  and  equal. 

A  confirmed  sportsman  himself,  doubtless  Butcher 
Donnan  preferred  to  take  his  "evenin's"  and  "morn- 
inV  with  Elphie.  But  John  Chesnay  was  a  know- 
ledgeable fellow  also,  and  there  was  no  doubt  he  un- 
derstood about  dogs.  Generally  he  was  a  man  of 
few  words,  spoken  in  the  strictest  line  of  business,  such 
as,  "That  pup's  got  distemper!" 

Seated  on  the  broken  wall  of  the  Feudal  Tower,  the 
three  men  listened  to  a  third  retelling  of  the  fight  with 


THE   TRAITOR'S   GATE  213 

the  robbers  in  the  house  of  Trapbois.  It  seemed  as  if 
they  would  never  tire  of  it. 

"Near  as  good  as  t'a  Police  News!"  said  Elphie, 
who  took  in  that  paper,  as  John  Chesnay,  the  game- 
keeper, affirmed,  "for  the  purpose  of  learning  how  to 
behave  on  the  scaffold  when  his  turn  came." 

But  the  stag-hunting  exploit  in  Greenwich  Park  came 
in  for  most  bitter  censure  on  the  part  of  experts. 

"To  hunt  within  a  stone  wall  —  in  a  deer  park  — 
hunt  'em  with  dogs  —  a  poor  beast  that  never  had  a 
chance  from  the  start !  Call  that  sport?"  Such  were 
the  united  testimonies  of  John  Chesnay,  gamekeeper, 
and  Elphie,  expert  in  game-poaching. 

"No  sort  of  a  way  at  all,"  repeated  Chesnay,  who 
had  had  experience  in  the  Highlands  ;  "as  well  go  into 
a  cage  and  kill  the  canaries!" 

This  was  strong  talking  for  the  silent  gamekeeper, 
while  as  for  Elphie,  he  seemed  to  regret  that  Nigel  had 
not  taken  his  chance  and  fired  a  pistol  into  the  King's 
High  Majesty. 

"He's  naught  o'  a  man!"  he  said,  over  and  over 
again.  "He  would  never  have  made  a  p  —  stone- 
breaker,  I  mean!" 

The  eye  of  the  gamekeeper  rested  on  his  sometime 
foe,  keen  as  a  needle-point  —  but  only  for  a  moment. 
He  grunted  and  resumed  his  pipe.  All  three  men, 


214  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

being  disciplinarians  in  their  own  families,  agreed  as 
to  the  necessities  of  Peggy  Ramsay's  case. 

"Should  be  well  whipped  and  sent  to  bed!"  said 
Butcher  Donnan. 

"  Supperless ! "  added  John  Chesnay. 

" And  a  sound  tongue-lashing  from  her  mother  the 
next  mornin' !"  said  Elphie,  whose  wife  was  reported 
to  be  gifted  that  way. 

At  this  treason  against  Sir  Walter,  Hugh  John  stirred, 
sat  up,  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  Sir  Toady 
was  about  to  speak,  but  a  look  from  Hugh  John  re- 
duced him  to  silence. 

"Maybe,"  said  Hugh  John,  slowly,  "you  would  have 
thought  differently  about  it,  when  you  were  as  young 
as  Nigel  Olifaunt.  More  than  that  —  the  girl  had  no 
mother!" 

"Ay!"  said  Butcher  Donnan,  nodding  thoughtfully. 

"That  makes  a  difference  —  that  does,"  said  Poacher 
Elphie,  "and  her  father  doubtless  out  from  morning 
till  night,  addling  his  bread!" 

Keeper  Chesnay  said  nothing,  yet  even  his  dour  will 
seemed  to  change  a  little  in  the  matter  of  Mistress 
Margaret. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  book,  and  gazed 
long  at  the  picture  of  George  Heriot  discovering  Peg-a- 
Ramsay  in  Nigel's  dungeon  in  the  Tower. 


THE   TRAITOR'S   GATE  215 

"She's  no  unbonny !"  he  said,  after  a  lingering  look, 
as  he  handed  it  back;  "only  — " 

He  paused  so  long  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  sentence 
were  finished. 

"Only  what?  —  speak  out,  man!"  cried  Butcher 
Donnan. 

"If  the  quean  were  a  bairn  o'  mine,"  said  he,  slowly 
and  sententiously,  "I  wad  hae  waited  for  that  young 
man,  and  him  and  me  wad  hae  pitten  up  the 
banns!" 

The  inwardness  of  this  was  lost  on  the  boys,  who 
were  already  foraging  through  the  volume  for  other 
and  more  interesting  incidents.  However,  the  session 
took  end  naturally.  Nipper  Donnan  was  ordered  off 
by  his  father  to  "shut  up  the  shop"  and  to  take  a  pound 
each  of  "best  neck"  to  several  poor  families  of  his  own 
communion. 

The  keeper  rose  with  a  sigh  and,  with  a  lift  of  his 
thumb  over  his  shoulder,  indicated  the  direction  of  the 
pheasant  coops,  where  his  comrade  Jo  Gill  would  be 
waiting  for  relief. 

"Good  e'en  to  ye  I"  he  said,  as  briefly  as  George 
Heriot  himself. 

Only  the  butcher  and  the  roadman-poacher  remained. 
The  boys  were  still  knocking  their  heads  together  over 
the  volume,  ending,  however,  by  finding  and  reading  the 


ai6  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

interview  in  the  dungeon  between  Heriot  and  the  young 
lord. 

"Impident  he  was!"  said  Butcher  Donnan;  "it's 
not  me  that  would  have  taken  as  much  lip  as  that  from 
any  man  —  jeweller  or  grocer !" 

"He  owed  him  money !  That  wad  be  it !"  said  the 
wary  poacher,  who  had  had  many  a  long  "rick"  him- 
self at  various  shops  —  including  that  of  Butcher 
Donnan  himself  —  when  it  was  his  bad  season. 

"  Owed  him  money ! "  cried  Butcher  Donnan ;  "  why, 
sir,  in  Ireland  —  in  County  Kerry  where  I  come  from  — 
'tis  the  man  that  does  NOT  owe  money  that  is  disre- 
spected—  shot,  maybe,  if  so  be  that  money  is  rent!" 

At  this  point  Elphie  rose  and  made  his  salutation  to 
the  company.  He  had  an  engagement,  he  said.  Sir 
Toady  had  one,  too.  But  the  fraternal  toe  induced 
him  to  give  it  up. 

The  butcher  eyed  the  brothers  with  a  small  twinkling 
eye,  deeply  set  in  his  huge  face.  He  grinned.  Then 
he  uttered  a  great  truth. 

"If  Nipper  had  had  a  big  brother,"  he  said,  "I 
know  an  honest  butcher-man  that  wud  have  been  saved 
a  deal  of  trouble!" 


THE  LAST  TALE  217 


NIGEL  (said  Sweetheart)  was  still  in  the  Tower. 
Nothing  seemed  changed.  He  had  dreamed,  it  is 
true,  about  Margaret  Ramsay.  He  saw  her  little  foot 
peeping  out  from  under  her  cloak  — 

•["Ha  —  ha!"  suddenly  screamed  Sir  Toady,  who, 
at  this  period,  had  no  romantic  illusions  as  to  the  power 
of  female  beauty,  —  "'her  little  foot-  peeping  out  from 
beneath  her  cloak '  —  (he  was  mimicking)  "oh,  won't  our 
fellows  laugh!" 

"Well,  at  least  you  won't,"  said  his  elder  brother; 
"how  do  you  like  the  'peeping  of  that  little  foot*  — 
eh  —  eh  —  eh?1' 

"Elephant  —  hippo  —  hog!"  cried  Sir  Toady,  in 
shrill  crescendo,  as  the  coercion  proceeded  on  the  best 
fraternal  lines.  "Well,  then,  I  won't  —  no,  I  won't 
interrupt  Sis  —  but  it  —  hie  —  hie  —  was  —  funny ! " 

This  inset  piece  being  thus  satisfactorily  finished,  the 
narrator  was  about  to  continue. 

"Say  it  all  over  again,  Sis,"  commanded  the  Senior 
Disciplinarian,  "exactly  as  before,  word  for  word. 
And  if  so  much  as  a  smile  flits  over  that  intelligent 
naval  countenance,  the  Benbow  won't  know  him  when 
he  goes  back!" 


2i8  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

But  the  face  of  the  young  salt  became  at  once  of  the 
proper  sea-faring  lack-of-expression,  as  if  at  the  word 
of  command. 

"Say  it  slow,  Sis!"  commanded  Hugh  John;  "it's 
for  his  good  !"  And  he  himself  leaned  a  little  forward 
with  his  left  fist  lightly  closed. 

"He  saw  in  dreams  her  little  foot  peeping  out  from 
beneath  her  cloak  — "  repeated  Sweetheart,  rather 
adding  than  subtracting. 

"Well  done,  Brass  and  Brine!"  said  Hugh  John, 
who  had  been  watching  for  the  least  flicker  of  expression 
on  the  fraternal  countenance.] 


Well,  when  Nigel  woke  (here  Sir  Toady,  seeing  the 
brotherly  eye  regarding  the  distant  hills  through  the 
window,  grinned),  he  heard  a  voice  which  he  had  thought 
a  good  three  hundred  miles  to  the  northward  of  the 
Tower  of  London.  For  an  instant  it  seemed  that  he 
was  deceiving  himself.  He  heard  the  voice  of  Ritchie 
Monyplies,  his  old  servant,  whom  he  had  thought  long 
ago  back  in  Edinburgh  town. 

"Humph,  ay,"  said  the  voice,  "time  that  both  cloak 
and  jerkin  were  through  my  hands.  I  question  if 
brush  has  passed  across  them  since  we  parted.  But 
many  of  the  gold  buttons  of  the  cloak  are  no  more  — 


THE  LAST  TALE  219 

as  I'm  an  honest  man,  a  round  dozen  of  them  are  gone ! 
This  comes  o'  Alsatia  frolics !" 

Looking  through  the  curtains  of  his  bed,  Nigel 
beheld  the  stiff  and  bony  length  of  Ritchie,  with  a  visage 
charged  doubly  with  importance.  He  was  employed 
in  brushing  his  master's  cloak,  and  whistling  Scottish 
ballad  music  as  he  did  so. 

"In  the  name  of  heaven,  Ritchie,"  cried  his  master, 
for  once  surprised  into  familiarity,  "is  that  you?" 

"And  who  else  should  it  be?"  said  Ritchie,  brushing 
away.  "It  is  little  likely  that  your  lordship's  levee  in 
this  place  should  be  attended  by  any  save  those  who, 
like  me,  are  old  and  faithful  servants!" 

"But  I  thought  you  were  in  Scotland  — you  parted 
from  me  once  and  for  all!" 

"No  such  thing,"  said  honest  Ritchie;  "if  your  lord- 
ship does  not  ken  when  he  has  a  guid  servant,  I  ken 
when  I  have  a  kind  master !  More  than  that,  you  will 
be  the  easier  served,  that  here  you  will  have  but  little 
chance  of  breaking  bounds!" 

"I  hope,"  said  Nigel,  smiling,  "that  you  will  not 
take  advantage  of  my  situation  to  be  too  severe  on  my 
past  follies." 

"God  forbid,  my  lord !"  replied  Ritchie;  "I  do  not 
forget  that  even  I  myself  am  human,  and  conscious  of 
some  small  weaknesses.  There  is  no  perfection  in  man ! ' ' 


220  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Nigel  laughed  at  the  idea  of  Ritchie,  in  his  own 
opinion,  coming  as  near  that  perfection  as  is  possible 
for  human  creature. 

"But,"  he  added,  "your  service  here  can  be  of  little 
benefit  to  a  prisoner,  and  may  be  very  prejudicial  to 
yourself!" 

Ritchie,  however,  stuck  to  it  with  his  ordinary  dog- 
matism, that  he  could  be  of  great  service,  yet  he  himself 
no  whit  prejudiced.  However,  he  made  the  condition 
that,  as  he  was  employed  on  urgent  private  business,  he 
should  only  do  his  service  for  his  master  at  such  times 
as  were  convenient  for  himself! 

Lord  Nigel  pointed  out  that  this  arrangement  would 
hardly  do  for  a  free  man,  but  that  as  a  prisoner,  he  was 
not  in  the  position  to  be  a  chooser.  It  was  characteristic 
that  Ritchie,  after  he  had  made  his  terms,  assisted  as 
usual  at  Nigel's  toilet,  and  waited  upon  him  at  break- 
fast with  every  mark  of  respect.  The  master  could  not 
help  being  touched  by  such  fidelity  —  in  spite  of  the 
anticipation,  sure  to  be  fulfilled,  that  he  would  yet 
have  to  stand  many  lectures  upon  the  lightness  of 
his  character  and  the  lack  of  seriousness  in  his  be- 
haviour. 

Meantime  Ritchie  was  not  losing  his  time.  From  the 
Tower  he  betook  himself  to  the  palace,  where  we  find  him 
intriguing  with  Linklater,  now  principal  kitchen  clerk 


THE  LAST  TALE  221 

and  favourite  king's  cook,  that  he  should  have  another 
interview  with  Majesty. 

Linklater  at  first  cried  out  in  horror  at  the  idea. 
Ritchie  would  infallibly  lose  his  own  head,  and  what 
affected  him  much  more,  cause  Linklater  to  lose  his 
place  in  the  royal  kitchen. 

But  Ritchie  insisted  that  the  "bit  sifflication  "  he  had 
would  be  most  grateful  to  the  King.  Still  the  cautious 
Clerk  of  the  Kitchen  held  out.  He  would  move  neither 
hand  nor  foot  in  the  matter.  He  had  risked  enough 
already.  However,  he  was  not  opposed  to  Ritchie 
slipping  the  " sifflication"  between  the  bowl  and  the 
platter  of  the  Scottish  broth  he  was  just  sending  up 
to  the  royal  chamber.  "For,"  said  he,  "the  King 
always  drinks  out  the  bowl.  Only"  (he  added)  "if  this 
brings  you  to  the  gallows  or  the  scourging  post,  it  is 
your  ain  wilful  deed." 

"I  will  blame  none  other!"  said  the  undismayed 
Ritchie,  and  so  waited  to  see  what  should  be  the  upshot. 

It  was  not  long  in  arriving.  In  a  few  moments 
Maxwell  himself  came  down  to  demand  who  had  placed 
a  writing  on  the  King's  trencher. 

Ritchie,  stepping  boldly  forth,  answered,  "I  am  the 
man!" 

"Follow  me,  then !"  said  Maxwell,  after  first  looking 
at  him  with  great  curiosity.  They  went  to  the  King's 


2?3  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

chamber  by  the  private  staircase,  where  Maxwell  left 
him  to  speak  with  the  King.  Ritchie  caught  the  con- 
clusion of  the  interview. 

"Ye  are  sure  he  is  not  dangerous?  —I  was  caught 
once.  Bide  within  call.  If  I  speak  loud,  start  to  me 
like  a  falcon.  If  I  speak  low,  keep  your  lang  lugs  out 
of  earshot.  And  now  show  him  in." 

So  Ritchie  found  himself  alone  in  the  presence  of 
Majesty. 

But  Master  Monyplies  had  too  good  an  idea  of  him- 
self to  be  in  the  least  put  out  by  any  such  trifling  cir- 
cumstance. He  stood  before  James  stiff  as  a  hedge- 
stake. 

"Have  ye  gotten  them,  man?  Have  ye  gotten 
them?"  said  James,  in  a  fluttered  state,  between  hope 
and  eagerness,  with  yet  something  also  of  fear.  "  Be- 
fore ye  speak  a  word,  gie  them  to  me  —  I  charge  you 
on  your  allegiance!" 

Ritchie  bent  on  one  knee  and  presented  a  box  to  the 
King,  which,  when  opened,  showed  the  carcanet  of 
balas  rubies  which  had  formerly  ornamented  the 
King's  hat.  James  fell  into  a  kind  of  childish  rapture, 
kissing  the  gems,  and  behaving  so  that  a  kind  of  grim 
smile  broke  over  Ritchie's  face  as  he  watched. 

"Take  heed,  sir,"  said  the  King,  looking  up;  "do 
not  laugh  at  us  —  we  are  your  anointed  sovereign  !" 


THE   LAST  TALE  223 

"I  was  only  trying,  with  indifferent  means,  to  bring 
my  countenance  into  conformity  with  that  of  your 
gracious  Majesty!"  said  Ritchie,  who  was  conceited 
enough  to  fancy  himself  a  good  courtier,  now  that  he 
had  the  opportunity. 

Upon  which  the  King  commended  him  and  asked  his 
name. 

"Ah,"  said  the  King,  laughing,  when  he  had  learned 
who  his  Northern  subject  was,  "ye  are  the  self-same 
traitor  that  nearly  sent  us  end-lang  on  the  causeway 
of  our  ain  courtyard !  Only  we  stuck  to  the  mare. 
Weel,  Ritchie,  how  came  ye  by  the  jewels?  Come 
you  on  the  part  o'  George  Heriot?" 

"  In  no  sort,"  said  Ritchie.  "  I  come,  as  Harry  Wynd 
fought,  utterly  for  my  ain  hand  !  I  call  no  man  master 
—  save  God,  your  Majesty,  and  the  noble  Nigel,  Lord 
of  Glenvarloch,  who  maintained  me  as  lang  as  he  could 
maintain  himsel',  poor  nobleman." 

"Glenvarloch  again!"  cried  the  King;  "by  my 
honour,  he  lies  in  ambush  for  us  at  every  corner.  But 
whisht !  Maxwell  knocks  at  the  door  —  I  will  wager 
that  is  George  Heriot  come  to  tell  us  that  he  cannot 
find  these  very  rubies !  Get  behind  the  arras  —  stand 
close,  man  —  sneeze  not,  cough  not,  breathe  not!" 

Then  began  one  of  the  homely  jestings  which  the 
King  loved  so  greatly  —  especially  with  George  Heriot, 


224  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

who  (as  he  said)  was  so  cursedly  backward  with  his 
gold-ends  of  money  and  so  cursedly  forward  with  his 
gold-ends  of  wisdom,  that  now  he  was  glad,  through 
all  his  royal  soul,  to  "get  a  hair  in  his  neck !" 

For  the  first  time  on  record  the  great  goldsmith  was 
at  a  loss.  He  had  indeed  taken  the  crown-jewels  as 
a  pledge,  and  now  he  could  not  replace  them.  He 
pleaded,  indeed,  that  he  had  told  the  King  beforehand 
how  that  the  lender  of  the  money  was  no  very  credit- 
able person,  whereupon  James  had  replied,  "  Non 
olet"  —  meaning  that  the  gold  did  not  smell  of  the 
means  of  getting  it. 

"But,"  said  the  King,  "as  a  loyal  subject  you  ought 
to  have  taken  care  that  they  remained  where  it  was 
within  your  King's  power  to  redeem  them !  That  the 
blame  and  the  shame  should  not  fall  upon  your  mon- 
arch." 

Heriot  pleaded  that  the  sudden  and  violent  death  of 
the  man  himself,  the  disappearance  of  his  daughter 
and  all  his  wealth,  the  hue  and  cry  that  had  been  made 
everywhere  (though  without  effect),  might  show  that 
he  at  least  had  done  his  best. 

"It  has  been  found  quite  impossible  to  recover 
them!"  said  the  goldsmith,  a  trifle  sadly.  For  he 
clearly  saw  that,  though  perfectly  innocent,  he  was  in  a 
difficult  position  as  the  intermediary  in  such  a  business. 


THE   LAST   TALE  225 

"Difficult,  ye  mean,  Geordie  —  not  impossible," 
said  the  King.  "What  is  impossible  must  remain  im- 
possible. What  is  only  difficult  may  be  resolved  by 
the  aid  of  wisdom  and  patience  —  as,  for  instance, 
Jingling  Geordie,  look  here !" 

And  he  displayed  the  recovered  treasure  before  the 
eyes  of  the  astonished  jeweller,  crying,  "What  say  ye 
to  that,  Jingler?  By  my  sword  and  sceptre,  the  man 
stares  as  if  he  took  his  native  prince  for  a  warlock. 
But  gang  thy  way,  honest  Geordie.  Thou  art  a  good 
plain  man  in  thy  way,  but  none  of  the  seven  sages  of 
Greece!" 

As  Heriot  was  going  out  the  King  burst  into  a  roar 
of  royal  laughter  at  the  goldsmith's  rueful  countenance, 
which  in  turn  was  echoed  from  behind  the  arras.  If 
the  King  laughed,  so,  according  to  Ritchie,  must  the 
good  subject  also. 

The  King  ordered  him  to  come  out  and  be  silent. 
There  was,  he  said,  no  need  to  "nicker"  like  a  young 
horse,  even  at  so  good  a  jest  and  one  of  his  own  royal 
framing.  But  though  George  Heriot  was  too  good  a 
courtier  to  interfere  with  the  King's  triumph,  he  darted 
a  look  of  some  displeasure  at  Ritchie,  who,  encouraged 
by  the  King,  still  held  himself  on  the  broad  grin. 

But  on  this  occasion,  as  often  before,  the  King's  un- 
certain temper  suddenly  turned  against  Ritchie,  as  soon 

Q 


226  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

as  he  began  to  ask  that,  in  consideration  of  the  jewels 
and  other  moneys,  the  King  would  be  pleased  to  look 
favourably  upon  the  case  of  Lord  Glenvarloch. 

"Out  with  him,  and  pay  him  all  his  dues!"  cried 
the  King;  "what,  sell  my  Justice !  Out  with  the  fause 
knave!" 

And  so  presently  Ritchie,  no  farther  advanced  appar- 
ently, found  himself  on  the  street,  while  George  Heriot 
went  back  again  to  the  King's  chamber. 

When  George  Heriot  returned  to  the  King's  ante- 
room, he  found  there  the  old  Earl  of  Huntingtower. 
The  King  was  breaking  some  bad  news  to  him,  with 
many  Latin  quotations.  The  old  soldier  grew  some- 
what restive  under  these,  though  he  declared  that  if 
the  roughness  of  his  nature  did  not  enable  him  to  bear 
any  trouble,  he  would  try  to  eke  out  his  courage  with 
a  text  of  Scripture.  He  prayed  James  to  tell  hirn 
what  the  calamity  was.  But  the  King,  as  was  his 
custom  maundered  off  into  the  great  pity  it  was  that 
Lord  Huntingtower  could  not  read  the  Scriptures  in 
the  original,  as  he  himself  was  used  to  do.  But  the 
old  warrior,  waxing  impatient,  cut  him  short  by  saying 
that  if  the  telling  of  the  bad  news  was  to  be  put  off  till 
he  was  capable  of  reading  Hebrew  like  his  Majesty, 
it  was  to  be  feared  that  he  would  die  in  ignorance. 

Whereupon  the  King  informed  him  a  little  brusquely 


THE   LAST   TALE  227 

that  his  son  Dalgarno  (whom  he  had  thought  a  very 
saint,  being  so  much  with  Steenie  and  Baby  Charles) 
had  turned  out  a  very  villain ! 

11  Villain !"  cried  the  old  Earl.  Then,  checking  him- 
self instantly,  he  added  in  a  lower  tone  —  "But  it  is 
your  Majesty  that  speaks  the  word !" 

King  James  stepped  back  at  the  ring  of  the  first 
word  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow. 

"Yes,"  said  the  King,  "it  is  indeed  I  who  say  so  — 
read!"  And  he  thrust  a  paper  into  Lord  Hunting- 
tower's  hand,  with  the  recommendation  not  to  speak  so 
loud  in  the  royal  presence  —  the  King  not  being  deaf. 

The  crime  of  Dalgarno  had  reference  to  his  ill-usage 
of  the  Lady  Hermione,  George  Heriot's  ward.  Her 
he  had  secretly  married,  then  deserted  and  ill-treated. 
Lastly,  taking  advantage  of  the  different  laws  of  the 
countries,  he  had  denied  any  marriage  at  all,  and 
would  have  handed  her  over  to  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham—  who,  though  strongly  prejudiced  by  Dalgarno 
against  the  character  of  the  Lady  Hermione,  never- 
theless scorned  to  avail  himself  of  her  distress,  even 
giving  her  the  means  of  getting  out  of  her  difficulties  by 
coming  to  England,  where  she  found  a  strong  pro- 
tector in  the  old  friend  of  her  father,  George  Heriot, 
the  jeweller  of  Lombard  Street. 

"It  was  e'en  like  himseP  — blessings  on  his  bonny 


228  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

face,"  cried  the  King,  "  and  to  tell  the  truth  I  believed 
the  lady's  tale  the  mair  that  she  spake  nae  ill  o'  Steenie ! 
And  it  is  the  opinion  of  our  council  and  ourselves,  as 
weel  as  of  Baby  Charles  and  Steenie,  that  your  son 
must  marry  this  lady  or  undergo  such  disgrace  and 
discountenance  as  we  can  bestow." 

For  a  time  Lord  Huntingtower  stood  like  an  ancient 
statue  of  the  times  of  chivalry  —  every  line  of  his  body 
immovable  and  rigid,  his  very  eyelashes  still  and  his 
eyes  seeing  nothing. 

The  next  moment,  overcome  by  the  news,  he  had 
sunk  to  the  ground  with  a  heavy  groan. 

The  King  raised  his  old  servant  in  his  arms,  and 
wept  over  him  unrestrainedly,  comforting  him  with  the 
philosophy  that  Dalgarno  was  to  marry  a  lady  of  good 
birth,  of  ample  wealth,  and  the  most  unspotted  fame. 

"I  am  sorry  for  it,"  said  the  embittered  old  man. 
"It  is  long  since  I  saw  my  son  to  be  hard  and  selfish  — 
but  this !  —  I  never  dreamed  that  a  blot  like  this  would 
have  fallen  on  our  race !  I  will  never  look  on  his  face 
again!" 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  King;  "on  the  contrary,  you 
must  take  him  to  task  roundly." 

But  here  the  old  Earl  asked  leave  to  retire.  His  grief 
was  not  for  the  curious  eyes  of  a  court. 

After  he  had  departed  the  King  began  to  tell  Heriot 


THE  LAST   TALE  229 

how,  even  before  the  very  council,  Dalgarno  had  bra- 
zened it  out  till  he  heard  of  the  lady's  rich  dowry. 
"They  gave  him  half  an  hour,"  said  the  King,  "to  read 
the  schedule  of  the  bride's  substance.  I  left  Steenie 
and  Baby  Charles  laying  his  duty  before  him,  and 
if  he  can  resist  what  they  desire  of  him  —  why,  I  only 
wish  he  would  teach  me  the  gate  o't !  Oh,  Geordie, 
Jingling  Geordie,  it  was  grand  to  hear  Baby  Charles 
layin'  doon  the  guilt  of  dissimulation,  and  Steenie  lec- 
turing on  the  evil  of  incontinence!" 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Heriot,  more  hastily  than  pru- 
dently, "that  I  might  have  thought  of  the  old  proverb 
of  Satan  reproving  sin." 

At  this  moment  the  council  was  again  summoned. 
Dalgarno,  still  flouting  them,  sneered  as  much  as  he 
dared,  insulting  even  the  King  under  the  mask  of 
humility,  making  face  to  proud  Buckingham,  and  hold- 
ing himself  as  arrogantly  as  before,  at  last  declared 
himself  willing  to  marry  the  Lady  Hermione  immedi- 
ately in  the  Chapel  Royal.  Here  he  took  his  place 
smilingly,  as  easy  and  unembarrassed  as  if  he  had  been 
in  reality  a  willing  and  happy  bridegroom. 

According  to  the  royal  arrangement,  Dalgarno  and 
the  Lady  Hermione  were  to  live  separately.  A  main- 
tenance was  to  be  allowed  to  Lady  Dalgarno  out  of 
her  own  money.  Her  husband  was  to  have  the  rest. 


230  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

"But,"  he  said,  with  haughty  meaning  in  his  tone, 
"it  was  only  a  single  line  in  the  schedule  which  bribed 
me  to  take  that  woman's  hand  in  mine." 

"That  must  have  been  the  sum  total,"  said  the 
King,  at  the  same  time  telling  his  son  to  be  quiet,  that 
he  might  the  better  hear  what  the  "frontless  loon" 
would  say. 

"Not  so,  sire,"  said  Dalgarno,  "though  no  doubt  the 
sum  total  might  have  been  an  object  to  Scottish  kings 
at  no  distant  date.  It  is  the  entry  which  gives  me 
power  of  vengeance  over  the  family  of  Glenvarloch,  and 
the  power  of  burning  her  mother's  house  to  ashes." 

The  King  asked  Heriot  what  Dalgarno  was  speaking 
about,  but  the  latter  continued,  answering  for  himself. 

"This  friendly  citizen,  my  liege,"  said  he,  indicating 
Heriot,  "hath  expended  a  sum  belonging  to  this  lady  — 
consequently  to  me.  A  certain  mortgage  has  passed 
into  my  hands,  and  if  the  money  is  not  paid  in  to  my 
scrivener  by  noon  to-morrow,  I  shall  take  possession 
of  all  the  properties  of  Glenvarloch,  my  house's  enemy 
and  my  own." 

"But  the  warrant  on  our  exchequer?"  said  the  King 
to  Heriot. 

"Lord  Glenvarloch  is  a  most  unlucky  youth," 
Heriot  answered ;  "in  the  adventure  which  cost  him 
for  a  time  your  Majesty's  favour,  he  lost  the  writing, 


THE   LAST   TALE  231 

and  now  it  cannot  be  found.  From  which  it  results 
that  even  you,  sire,  cannot  aid  him  without  paying 
your  debts  twice  over!" 

"I  have  scarce  the  means  of  paying  them  once, 
Geordie!"  said  the  King. 

"I  will  take  no  advantage,"  said  Dalgarno,  "though 
you  give  me  news.  I  will  wait  till  noon  to-morrow, 
and  if  any  one  will  pay  the  money  to  my  scrivener, 
with  whom  the  deeds  lie,  so  much  the  better  for  Lord 
Glenvarloch.  If  not,  I  shall  travel  forward  on  the 
next  day  to  take  possession  of  my  new  estates  in  the 
North!" 

"Take  a  father's  malison  with  you,  unhappy  wretch ! " 
said  Lord  Huntingtower,  turning  away. 

"And  a  King's,  who  is  father  of  his  country!"  said 
James. 

"I  trust  to  bear  both  lightly,"  said  Dalgarno,  bow- 
ing and  going  out,  leaving  all  a  little  overawed  by  such 
determined  effrontery.  Lord  Huntingtower  took  with 
him  his  new  daughter-in-law,  and  the  sitting  of  the 
Privy  Council  was  continued,  though  the  hour  was 
already  late. 

It  was  evident  that  the  King  was  in  mood  for  a  speech. 
He  began  by  informing  those  present  how  he  had  come 
to  know  all  this.  In  the  Tower  he  had  caused  to  be 
built  a  "King's  lug,"  or  ear,  by  sitting  in  which  all  the 


232  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

conversation  of  the  prisoners  in  the  next  dungeon  could 
plainly  be  heard.  Here  the  Prince  cast  a  look  of  great 
disgust  at  Buckingham.  Buckingham  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  but  so  slightly  that  the  motion  was  almost 
imperceptible. 

The  King  went  on  to  relate  how  he  had  listened  here 
when  Nigel  was  sent  to  the  Tower.  The  King  had 
thus  overheard  his  various  talks  with  Margaret,  with 
Christie,  with  George  Heriot,  and  with  Sir  Mungo 
Malagrowther.  In  all  which  trials,  said  the  speaker, 
"Glenvarloch  had  acquitted  himself  nobly,  never 
uttering  a  word  against  his  anointed  King,  and  behav- 
ing far  better  than  you,  Steenie,  might  not  have  been 
tempted  to  do,  for  all  your  laughing." 

"I  am  glad,"  said  the  favourite,  "that  you  have 
resolved  to  pardon  Glenvarloch,  though  I  never  should 
have  dreamed  of  the  way  you  arrived  at  the  certainty 
of  his  innocence." 

"And  I  trust,"  said  Prince  Charles,  "that  it  is  not  a 
path  that  your  Majesty  will  think  consistent  with  your 
high  dignity  to  tread  frequently." 

"Never  while  I  live  again,  Baby  Charles,"  said  the 
King;  "I  give  you  my  royal  word  for  it !  The  'King's 
lug'  shall  be  instantly  built  up.  You  are  right, 
Baby  Charles,  the  groans  of  the  prisoner  were  never 
intended  to  be  brought  in  evidence  against  him  —  the 


THE  LAST  TALE  233 

more  so  that  my  royal  back  is  sore  with  sitting  for  a 
whole  hour  hearing  ill  tales  of  myself!" 


The  next  day,  a  little  after  eleven,  Andro  Skirlie- 
whitter,  —  the  former  scrivener  whom  George  Heriot 
had  employed  (now  grown  rich,  though  not  altogether 
by  honest  means),  —  waited  eagerly  the  hour  of  twelve, 
which  would  put  his  client  Dalgarno  in  possession  of 
the  Glenvarloch  estates.  But  in  this  he  was  to  be  dis- 
appointed. 

Ritchie  Monyplies,  with  Master  Reginald  Lowestoffe 
and  another  Templar,  arrived  to  be  witnesses  of  the 
payment  of  twenty  bags  of  gold  which  Ritchie  had 
brought  with  him  to  redeem  the  Glenvarloch  estates. 

The  scrivener  wished  to  gain  time  by  sending  for 
Lord  Dalgarno.  But  the  Templar  knew  better.  Fi- 
nally, the  scrivener  had  to  sit  down  there  and  then  and 
write  a  full  receipt  for  the  money  offered. 

As  they  went  out  they  met  Dalgarno,  who  told  Ritchie 
that  if  Glenvarloch  was  still  of  the  same  mind  as  to 
their  quarrel,  he  would  meet  him  the  next  day  on 
Enfield  Chase,  on  his  way  North,  which  would  be  a  fitter 
place  than  the  park  for  fighting  it  out. 

"If  he  is  aught  but  an  Alsatian  bully,  he  will  meet 
me  at  Gamlot  Moat  **  he  knows  the  place ;  but  if  he 


234  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

fail  to  meet  me  there,  your  master  must  seek  me  in 
Scotland,  where  he  will  find  me  possessed  of  all  his 
father's  estates  and  properties." 

Ritchie  Monyplies  had  not  the  least  intention  of 
doing  this  commission.  Nigel  would  never  hear  a 
word  of  the  matter  from  him. 

But  when  Dalgarno  heard  from  his  scrivener  that 
the  money  had  been  paid,  he  seized  and  shook  the 
wretched  man  till  the  collar  of  his  black  velvet  suit 
came  away  from  the  cassock. 

Then  Dalgarno,  instantly  changing  his  idea,  resolved 
to  use  the  redemption  money  paid  by  Ritchie  to  hold  the 
castle  of  Glenvarloch  against  its  owner.  Accordingly, 
he  ordered  the  scrivener  to  find  porters  and  send  all 
the  gold  to  his  lodging. 

But  before  the  money  could  be  got  off,  the  scoundrel, 
Captain  Colepepper,  entered.  He  had  been  at  the  kill- 
ing of  Trapbois  —  most  probably  the  actual  murderer, 
or  so  at  least  his  daughter  thought.  It  had,  however, 
been  by  means  of  Andro  Skirliewhitter  that  the  gang 
got  wind  of  the  manner  of  entering  the  apartment  of 
the  miser.  It  had  been  previously  arranged  that  Trap- 
bois was  to  steal  (and  actually  did  steal)  the  parchment 
on  which  the  King's  order  on  the  treasury  in  favour  of 
Glenvarloch  was  written.  This  would  be  one  barrier 
the  more  in  the  way  of  Nigel  redeeming  his  estates. 


THE  LAST   TALE  235 

But  the  sudden  appearance  of  Nigel  on  the  scene  of 
the  murder  had  disconcerted  their  plans.  Now,  how- 
ever, Colepepper,  advised  by  Skirliewhitter,  saw  that 
the  halting  of  Dalgarno  at  Camlot  Moat  was  an  ex- 
ceedingly good  chance  of  getting  the  money  which  had 
been  paid  by  Ritchie  Monyplies. 

For  Colepepper  had  become  a  common  highwayman, 
and  it  was  easy  for  him  to  get  a  fine  lot  of  rascals  about 
him :  Black  Feltham,  Dick  Shakebag  —  that  made 
three  —  and  another  yet  to  be  found. 

"The  thing  is  well  worth  the  doing,  however  it  may 
turn  out,"  said  the  scrivener  to  himself,  after  he  had 
got  rid  of  Colepepper  by  giving  him  two  gold  pieces. 
"If  the  ruffian  fails,  then  he  cannot  tug  longer  at  my 
purse-strings  because  of  that  matter  at  Whitefriars. 
If  Lord  Dalgarno  dies,  as  is  most  likely  —  then  I  am 
in  a  thousand  ways  safe  —  safe  —  safe  — !" 

Meanwhile,  after  dining  his  two  witnesses  well  at 
Beaujeu's,  Ritchie  was  returning  eastwards  when  he  met 
Jin  Vin,  once  'prentice  to  David  Ramsay,  but  now  far 
down  the  hill,  having  taken  to  gambling  and  lost  his 
all. 

Worst  of  all,  and  the  cause  of  all,  he  had  lost  Margaret 
Ramsay.  He  had  loved  her  long,  and  from  the  first 
had  cherished  the  hope  that  a  tight  'prentice  might  yet 
live  to  marry  his  master's  daughter. 


236  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

But  now,  when  he  met  Ritchie  Monyplies,  he  had 
most  surprising  news  to  tell.  No  less  than  that  the  King 
had  meddled  in  the  matter,  and  that  ever  since  he  had 
seen  her  in  her  boy's  dress  it  was  Peg-a-Ramsay 
this  and  Peg-a-Ramsay  that  other.  He  had  even 
found  a  grand  pedigree  for  her,  and  —  she  was  to  be 
married  to  Nigel,  Lord  Glenvarloch. 

Of  this,  however,  Ritchie  would  at  first  believe  noth- 
ing at  all,  the  idea  of  a  great  Scottish  lord  marrying 
the  daughter  of  a  city  mechanic  being  to  him  absurd ! 

"Speak  civilly,"  cried  Jin  Vin,  at  once  taking  fire; 
"she  is  the  prettiest  girl  between  the  Bar  and  Paul's  — 
I  will  uphold  it !  But  now  the  King  has  made  her  into 
a  kind  of  gentlewoman,  takes  an  interest  in  the  match, 
and  runs  about  cackling  like  an  old  gander  about 
Peggie,  ever  since  he  hath  seen  her  in  hose  and  doublet ! 
And  no  wonder!"  added  poor  Jin  Vin,  with  a 
sigh. 

"But  are  ye  sure  ye  have  lost  her?"  repeated  Ritchie, 
in  whose  ears  the  whole  matter  sounded  strange  and 
incredible. 

"Why,  no  sooner  was  my  Lord  clear  of  the  Tower," 
said  the  ex-apprentice,  "than  there  came  Master  Heriot 
direct  from  the  King  to  propose  for  her,  and  our  old 
dullard  watchmaker  multiplied  six  figures  progressively 
and  then  —  gave  his  consent!" 


THE  LAST  TALE  237 

"And  what  did  you  do,  Jin  Vin?"  asked  Ritchie. 

"I  rushed  out  of  the  shop  half  mad.  And,  in  search 
for  counsel,  I  went  across  the  road  to  Dame  Ursula 
Suddlechop,  who  had  promised  me  many  a  time  that  I 
should  have  Margaret.  And  all  that  she  could  suggest 
was  that  I  should  go  'on  the  road'  with  that  villain 
Colepepper  —  that  is,  turn  highwayman  like  him!" 

"Ah,"  said  Ritchie,  "if  you  can  tell  me  anything 
about  that  smaik,  ye  will  be  doing  me  a  very  sincere 
service,  Master  Jenkin!" 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  the  woman  spoke  of  my  meeting 
him  on  Enfield  Chase  with  some  other  'good  fellows' 
—  to  do  a  robbery  on  a  nobleman  who  rides  northward 
with  a  great  treasure." 

Upon  this  Ritchie  thought  awhile,  and  then,  suddenly 
enlightened,  asked  if  Jin  Vin  would  not  join  him  in  a 
little  private  expedition  to  Enfield  Chase.  He  knew 
that  Reginald  Lowestoffe  and  his  friend  Ringwood, 
the  Templar,  would  readily  be  of  the  party,  if  there 
were  blows  going.  These  four  would  go  out  and  see 
if  the  true  men  could  not  in  their  turn  rob  the 
thieves. 

At  the  appointed  time  Dalgarno  rode  northward  with 
only  a  lady  and  a  little  page  in  their  company,  but  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Chase  they  dismounted  and  walked 
together  through  the  woodland  to  a  mound  known  as 


238  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Camlot  Moat.  Here  he  was  resolved  to  meet  with 
Glenvarloch,  to  fight,  and  if  possible  to  kill  him  —  in 
which  case  he  would  go  to  Scotland,  with  some  at  least 
of  his  former  credit  restored  and  sufficient  gold  to  sus- 
tain it. 

But  though  the  four  riders  meant  to  reach  the  spot 
of  the  intended  robbery  first,  they  came  too  late.  They 
had  not  calculated  upon  the  robbers  beginning  with 
murder,  which  indeed  was  not  the  custom  of  English 
highwaymen,  though  the  common  practice  abroad. 

The  rescuers  arrived  at  full  gallop  on  the  field  the 
very  moment  when  the  first  shot  was  fired.  Ritchie 
Monyplies,  for  his  own  reasons,  desired  to  hold  immedi- 
ate count  and  reckoning  with  Captain  Colepepper. 
The  Captain,  by  a  quick  attack,  dismounted  Ritchie, 
who,  truth  to  tell,  was  not  altogether  at  home  upon  a 
horse.  But  Monyplies,  nothing  daunted  by  his  fall, 
struck  at  him  with  the  knife  he  had  wrenched  from 
the  villain's  hand,  and  then  killed  him  instantly  with 
the  blow  of  the  butt  of  a  musketoon. 

Lowestoffe  had  put  his  opponent  to  flight  when  the 
other  Templar  suddenly  called  out,  "If  ye  be  men, 
come  hither, — here  lies  Lord  Dalgarno,  murdered!" 

Lowestoffe  and  Ritchie  ran  to  the  spot,  where  pres- 
ently the  whole  company  stood  gazing  with  horror  on 
the  dead  body  of  the  wicked  young  nobleman. 


THE   LAST   TALE  239 

As  for  Lutin,  the  page,  he  had  disappeared  with  — 
["With  the  loot!"  said  Sir  Toady  the  incorrigible.] 


The  marriage  of  Nigel  and  Margaret  was  to  be  graced 
by  the  presence  of  the  King  himself.  James,  when  he 
could  get  his  way,  loved  all  manner  of  comfortable  inti- 
macies with  his  subjects.  He  was  a  homely  monarch 
and  in  his  way  a  diplomatist.  He  laboured  with  his 
own  royal  eyes  to  find  out  Margaret  Ramsay's  pedigree, 
till  (so  he  said)  he  nearly  wore  out  a  pair  of  her  father's 
best  barnacles.  And  one  day  when  Sir  Mungo  Mala- 
growther  was  bemoaning  in  the  royal  presence  the  pity 
it  was  that  so  fair  a  maid  had  no  pedigree,  the  King 
cut  him  short  with:  "Ye  may  save  your  grief  for  your 
ain  next  occasions.  For,  by  our  royal  saul,  we  will 
uphaud  her  father,  David  Ramsay,  to  be  a  gentleman 
of  nine  descents,  whose  great-grandsire  came  of  the 
auld  martial  stock  of  Dalwolsey!" 

Accordingly  the  King  came  to  the  wedding,  on  the 
providing  of  which  George  Heriot  had  spent  his  means 
freely.  James  had  so  manoeuvred  that  both  the  Prince 
and  Buckingham  had  been  despatched  on  a  mission 
to  Newmarket.  Thus  he  might  indulge  himself  in 
the  homely  gossiping  habits  which  were  as  dear  to  him 
as  they  were  distasteful  to  his  formal  son  and  haughty 
favourite. 


240  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

After  preparing  his  master  for  his  marriage,  and  giving 
his  locks  "the  last  touch  of  the  redding  comb,"  Ritchie 
Monyplies  kneeled  down,  kissed  Nigel's  hand,  and 
asked  leave  to  discharge  himself  of  his  lordship's  service. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Nigel,  smiling,  "that  you  mean  to 
enter  that  of  my  wife." 

"I  wish  her  good  ladyship  that  is  to  be,  and  you,  my 
master,  in  time  the  blessing  of  as  good  a  servant  as 
myself.  But  fate  has  so  ordered  it  that  I  can  only  be 
your  servant  in  the  way  of  friendly  courtesy." 

"Let  it  be  according  to  your  will,  Ritchie,"  said  Nigel, 
and  thought  no  more  about  his  servant's  whims,  upon 
that  day  of  all  days  in  the  year. 

The  marriage  took  place  in  St.  Paul's.  The  King 
himself  gave  away  the  bride  —  to  the  great  relief  of 
her  father,  who  thus  had  time  to  calculate  the  exact 
quotient  for  a  report-wheel  in  a  timepiece  he  was  then 
putting  together. 

By  special  permission  of  the  King,  Ritchie  Monyplies 
was  allowed  to  enter  the  splendid  Foljambe  apartments 
in  Heriot's  house  in  Lombard  Street,  where  James  was 
delighting  himself  in  his  freedom  —  mumping,  gossip- 
ing, ambling  hither  and  thither,  and  cracking  jests, 
all  to  the  accompaniment  of  his  own  sturdy  laughter. 
On  first  entering,  the  King  had  thrown  down  his  hat, 
cast  off  his  belt  and  sword  as  if  they  burnt  his  fingers, 


THE  LAST  TALE  241 

and  now  in  safe  and  congenial  society,  he  was  enjoying 
himself,  as  perhaps  he  had  never  done  since  the  old 
days  in  Holyrood. 

Upon  receiving  an  assurance  that  Ritchie  Monyplies 
did  not  come  seeking  his  money,  James  caused  him  to 
be  admitted  at  once  his  name  was  sent  up. 

Hardly  had  he  done  speaking  when  the  door  opened, 
and  to  the  great  surprise  of  Lord  Glenvarloch,  his  late 
serving-man,  Ritchie  Monyplies,  entered,  gorgeously 
attired  in  a  superb  brocaded  suit,  and  leading  by  the 
hand  —  who  but  Martha  Trapbois,  all  in  black  velvet, 
strangely  enough  suited  to  the  severe  melancholy  of  her 
countenance. 

"What  the  deil,"  exclaimed  the  King,  "has  the  fellow 
brought  here  ?  Is  it  a  corpse  that  has  run  off  with  the 
mort-cloth?" 

"May  I  sifflicate  your  Majesty  to  be  gracious  unto 
her?"  said  Ritchie,  "being  as  she  is  my  ain  wedded 
wife,  Mistress  Martha  Monyplies!" 

"Saul  o'  my  body,  man,  but  she  is  wondrous  grim," 
answered  the  King;  "she  looks  as  though  in  her  time 
she  might  have  been  maid  of  honour  to  Queen  Mary, 
our  kinswoman  of  red-hot  memory!" 

"She  has  brought  me  fifty  thousand  pounds  in  good 
siller  —  and  better,"  said  Ritchie,  "and  that  has  enabled 
me  to  pleasure  both  your  Majesty  and  other  folk." 


242  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"How  came  you  by  her?"  said  the  King,  who  did 
not  like  such  topics  as  the  owing  of  money. 

"In  the  auld  Scottish  fashion,  my  liege,"  said  Ritchie ; 
"she  is  the  captive  of  my  bow  and  spear.  There  was  a 
convention  that  I  should  wed  Mistress  Martha  when  I 
avenged  her  father's  death.  So  I  slew,  and  took  pos- 
session !" 

His  bride  drew  out  a  bundle  of  parchments,  and  de- 
livering them  to  Lord  Glenvarloch,  said  aloud,  "I  take 
this  royal  presence  and  all  here  to  witness  that  I  restore 
the  ransomed  lordship  of  Glenvarloch  to  the  rightful 
owner,  in  all  respects  as  ever  it  was  held  by  any  of  his 
ancestors." 

"I  witnessed  the  redemption  of  the  mortgage,"  said 
Lowestoffe,  "though  I  little  dreamed  by  whom  it  was 
redeemed." 

"There  would  have  been  small  service  in  crying, 
'Roast-meat,'  when  such  gallants  as  you  were  abroad  !" 
said  Ritchie,  unabashed. 

"Peace,"  said  his  wife;  "I  have  here  yet  another 
paper!"  And  she  placed  in  Nigel's  hand  the  original 
order  of  the  King  upon  the  Scottish  exchequer  —  the 
same  which  had  so  long  been  lost. 

"My  lord,"  she  said,  "it  was  not  only  the  piece  of 
gold  which  brought  my  father  to  your  room  that  fatal 
night,  but  also  the  hope  of  purloining  this  paper." 


THE  LAST  TALE  243 

Then  the  King,  who  loved  not  such  stories,  cut  short 
this  one  by  complimenting  Martha  on  her  husband's 
wit  and  bravery. 

"There  are  fools  who  have  wit,"  she  made  answer, 
"but  I  chose  this  man,  because  he  was  my  protector 
when  I  was  desolate.  He  is  truly  honest  and  has  a 
heart  and  hand  that  make  amends  for  some  follies. 
Since  I  am  compelled  to  find  a  protector,  I  thank  God 
I  have  fallen  on  no  worse  !" 

"Let  us  see  if  we  cannot  make  him  better,"  said  the 
King.  "Lend  me  your  rapier,  somebody  —  you,  Mas- 
ter Langstaff;  do  not  flash  it  out  that  gate,  Templar 
fashion,  as  if  you  were  about  to  pink  a  bailiff  !" 

The  King  took  the  drawn  sword,  and  with  averted 
eyes  laid  it  on  the  shoulder  of  Ritchie,  who,  taken  by 
surprise,  tried  to  rise,  but  was  held  down  by  Lowestoffe. 

"Rise  up,  Sir  Richard  Monyplies  of  Castle  Collop  !" 
he  said.  "And  now,  my  lords  and  lieges,  let  us  to 
our  dinner,  for  the  cock-a-leekie  is  cooling." 


"And  what  came  of  Jin  Vin?"  said  Sir  Toady,  who 
had  an  affection  for  that  bold  'prentice. 

Sweetheart  answered  him  gravely. 

"He  went  back,  turned  a  good  boy,  stuck  to  his 
work,  and,  after  David  Ramsay  had  retired,  took 


244  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

over  the  business  along  with  his  fellow-apprentice 
Tunstall.  In  fact,"  concluded  Sweetheart,  "he  lived 
happily  ever  after!" 

"Found  out  how  silly  it  was  to  bother  about  a  girl, 
I  suppose,"  said  Sir  Toady,  ungratefully;  "as  if  there 
were  not  lots!" 

THE   END   OF   SWEETHEART'S    "TALES   FROM   THE   FOR- 
TUNES OF  NIGEL" 


HUGH  JOHN  PREPARES  TO  TELL  HIS  TALE 

"SAY,"  preluded  Sir  Toady  Lion,  looking  if  there 
was  a  safe  way  out  of  the  wood,  if  the  worst  came  to 
the  worst,  "say,  you  ones,  Sis  has  stopped  being  too 
awful  good.  She  doesn't  get  up  to  go  to  morning  church 
on  week-days  any  more  —  not  since  she  has  been  to 
school.  Now  she  lies  longer  in  bed,  has  to  wait  for  her 
bath,  and  so  is  late  for  breakfast  instead." 

"Well,  what  business  is  it  of  yours,  Toadums?" 
Hugh  John  smiled  a  stern,  repressive  smile.  "What  do 
you  mean  by  it,  anyway?" 

"Oh,  only  that  she  tells  a  better  story.  I  like  her 
style  better!" 

"Conceited  little  beast!  I'll  teach  you  to  like  any- 
thing you  are  not  told  to  like  by  your  elders  and  betters ! " 

Butcher  Donnan  nodded  his  head.  Nothing  like  dis- 
cipline in  families !  Better  a  little  too  much  than  any 
short  weight.  These  were  his  principles,  business  and 
domestic. 

We  were  all  seated  down  at  the  Feudal  Tower, 
Sweetheart  keeping  a  little  retired  with  a  person  of 
her  confidence  where  they  could  exchange  whispers 
without  being  seen  by  the  boys;  the  youngers,  male 

247 


248  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

and  female  after  their  kind,  a-sprawl  on  the  green 
grass  —  Butcher  Donnan,  John  Chesnay,  and  the 
Poacher  Elphie  seated  amicably  on  the  wall. 

"Well,"  said  Hugh  John,  "father  says  that  if  the 
rest  of  us  tell  the  story,  just  as  we  would  to  one  another, 
little  mistakes  won't  be  counted,  and  we  will  get  our 
sov  all  the  same !  Sweetheart  thinks  this  quite  fair, 
because  she  has  a  better  memory." 

Hugh  John  looked  over  at  Sweetheart,  who  stopped 
whispering  to  nod  back.  That  young  lady  was  rich 
beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice  —  her  claims  having 
been  commuted  for  two  sovereigns  cash,  and  other 
three  towards  her  dress  account,  which  last  item  the 
boys,  who  got  their  school  outfit  given  them,  considered 
as  good  as  nothing  at  all. 

"I  am  to  tell  the  story  just  as  I  like,  and  if  anyone 
interrupts  —  " 

"No  one  shall  interrupt !"  I  said  hastily,  fearing  that 
the  sounds  of  war  might  delay  Hugh  John's  first  tale. 


THE  FIRST  TALE  OF  QUENTIN  DURWARD'S 
ADVENTURES  AS  THESE  APPEARED  TO  HUGH 
JOHN 

Of   course  (said  Hugh  John)  in   the  book   there's 
a  lot  of  stuff  that  is  no  good  to  a  boy.    I  left  that  out. 


THE   SCOTS   ADVENTURER  249 

But  I  read  the  notes  —  they  were  prime.  It  is  a  good 
plan  to  read  the  notes  first,  and  then  you  can  wade 
through  the  story  after  —  oh,  ever  so  much  easier  — 
lovemaking  and  all! 

[Various  murmurings  arose. 

"Why  don't  you  go  on,  then?  Quit  yarning  about 
nothing!  I  don't  believe  he  can  at  all!  He's 
funking ! " 

Hugh  John  cast  a  sort  of  promissory  note  to  each  of 
the  interrupters  and  plunged  at  once  into  medias  res.] 

He  had  chosen  Quentin  Durward  by  a  sort  of  in- 
stinct, the  character,  indeed,  in  some  degree  resembling 
his  own  —  adventurous,  self-reliant,  and  with  a  strong 
sense  of  personal  dignity,  which  would  not  render 
his  passage  through  the  world  the  easier. 

THE  SCOTS  ADVENTURER 

It  begins  (said  Hugh  John)  about  a  young  Scottish 
fellow  —  like  us,  or  maybe  a  bit  older,  who  had  gone 
to  France  to  push  his  fortune.  Fellows  didn't  go  into 
offices  then.  I  bet  you,  no.  Quentin  Durward  didn't, 
anyhow.  He  had  learned  all  about  how  to  use  the  sword 
and  the  single-stick  and  everything  like  that  up  in 
Glen  Houlakin,  where  he  came  from.  This  is  to  say, 
the  Glen  of  the  Midges.  But  a  fellow  can't  live  on 
midges  (though  midges  can  on  you),  and  like  all  the 


250  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

other  young  Scots  of  his  time  he  went  abroad  to  seek 
for  a  chance  to  fight  under  the  banner  of  some  great 
lord  or  another. 

["Why  didn't  he  stay  at  home  and  join  the  army  or 
the  navy?"  said  Sir  Toady,  who  believed  in  patriotism.] 

Because  there  weren't  any  (said  Hugh  John, 
informed  by  the  notes,  and  by  information  about 
Louis  XI,  laboriously  spelled  out  of  Lavisse),  and 
besides,  if  you  wanted  to  be  anybody  in  the  Scottish 
wars  with  England,  you  had  got  to  go  and  learn  all 
about  it  first  from  the  French  or  the  Emperor's  people 
—  what  we  call  the  Austrians  now.  But  they  called 
themselves  Emperors  of  Rome,  which  was  all  in  my 
eye. 

Well,  there  was  this  young  Quentin  in  France,  and 
he  felt  pretty  gay,  for  though  he  was  hungry,  it  was 
a  fine  morning.  His  clothes  were  all  right,  only  a  bit 
worn,  like  your  "footer"  things  after  two  winters  — 

["Or  a  sixth  termer's  cap!"  interjected  Sir  Toady, 
"brushed  but  bashed."] 

Quentin  had  wristlets  and  pouches  for  flying  a  hawk, 
but  carried  no  bird.  In  his  smart  blue  bonnet  there 
was  an  eagle's  feather,  and  by  his  side  a  long  hunting- 
knife  in  a  sheath. 

Well,  he  sailed  along,  saying,  "  So  ho,  you  fellows ! "  — 
like  that,  to  all  the  world,  and  wishing  it  was  breakfast 


THE   SCOTS   ADVENTURER  251 

time,  when,  presently,  he  came  to  a  river.  This  was 
swollen  with  the  floods,  and  he  shouted  out  to  two 
men  on  the  farther  side  to  know  if  the  ford  were 
passable. 

They  did  not  answer ;  so,  taking  it  for  granted,  in  he 
went. 

But  it  wasn't,  not  by  chalks.  These  two  were  regular 
old  soldiers,  and  didn't  care  a  lump  of  mud  whether 
Quentin  got  drowned  or  not.  However,  he  managed 
to  scrape  through  all  right.  But,  naturally,  he  was  as 
mad  as  a  hatter  when  he  got  there,  and  threatened  to 
crack  the  crown  of  the  one  who  went  to  help  him  out. 
What  for?  For  not  telling  him,  of  course. 

He  made  his  hunter's  pole  twirl  like  mill-flappers 
about  the  man's  head,  till  the  elder,  an  old  fellow, 
very  well  dressed,  who  was  called  Master  Pierre,  said 
to  himself  that  if  he  did  not  hurry  up,  the  young  fellow 
would  "beat  his  Gossip  for  the  only  charitable  action 
he  had  ever  seen  him  do  in  all  his  life!" 

And  he  was  just  in  time.  For  Quentin  had  begun 
to  call  names  — 

["What  were  the  names?"  said  Toady  Lion,  who 
wished  to  enlarge  his  verbal  armoury  for  future  occa- 
sions.] 

Oh,  he  just  said,  "Discourteous  dog!"  —  same  as  I 
might  call  you  "Mean  Little  Pig!"  before  thumping 


252  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

you  (explained  Hugh  John).    It   comes  just   to   the 
same  thing. 


So  Master  Pierre  said  that  Quentin  was  a  young  ass 
for  quarrelling  with  a  man  who  was  going  to  help  him, 
and  that  he  did  not  speak  French  well  enough  to  make 
them  understand  what  he  wanted,  and  a  lot  of  grown 
folks'  taffy  like  that  —  of  which  Quentin  believed  just 
as  much  as  he  pleased. 

But  as  this  Master  Pierre  was  a  decent  old  chap  to 
look  at,  and  his  father  had  taught  him  to  speak  re- 
spectfully to  people  older  than  himself,  Quentin  an- 
swered that  he  would  not  have  cared  a  "dockan"  leaf 
about  the  ducking  he  had  got,  only  he  thought  they 
were  cheeking  him  —  or  at  least  that  the  younger 
(whom  Master  Pierre  called  his  "Gossip")  was. 

Well,  the  old  fellow,  who  did  not  look  quite  so  grim 
as  his  surly  "  Gossip,"  offered  Quentin  a  good  break- 
fast, to  call  things  square,  and  you  had  better  believe 
that  Quentin  was  pretty  glad  to  hear  about  it.  For 
he  was  hungry  as  a  hawk,  and  he  knew  by  the  look  of 
Master  Pierre  that  he  must  be  a  citizen  of  the  neigh- 
bouring town  of  Tours,  and  pretty  well  caulked  with 
coin,  too — a  money- broker  or  banker,  maybe,  like  those 
Medici  fellows  in  Florence.  But  the  " Gossip"  had 


THE   SCOTS   ADVENTURER  253 

a  butcherly,  sullen  look  about  him,  as  if  he  could  not 
only  eat  —  but  would  have  liked  to  kill  and  eat  too. 

Well,  the  first  old  boy  went  on  talking  all  the  time 
like  one  o'clock,  and  Mr.  Butcher  followed,  saying 
not  a  word.  Quentin  felt  sure  that  they  were  burgesses 
of  Tours,  and  suspected  that  the  elder  was  a  bit  of 
a  miser.  For  at  that  time  everybody  who  was  any- 
body had  a  badge  of  gold  or  silver  in  his  cap,  and 
Master  Pierre  only  wore  an  image  of  the  Virgin  in 
lead,  like  what  poor  pilgrims  bring  back  from  Loretto. 

["Who  was  headmaster  there  then?"  Toady  Lion 
called  out. 

"You  dry  up,  Toad ;  it  wasn't  that  Loretto,  and  you 
know  it!"  said  Hugh  John,  lowering  his  voice  for 
a  second.] 

And  Master  Pierre  asked  him  what  he  was  doing 
with  all  that  hawking  tackle,  when  no  hawking  was 
permitted  on  a  royal  chase. 

"I  was  taught  that  lesson,"  said  Quentin,  "when 
a  rascal  forester  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  shot  the 
falcon  I  had  brought  with  me  from  Scotland  near 
Peronne." 

"And  what  did  you  do?"  said  the  merchant. 

"I  whacked  him  —  beat  him,  I  mean  —  as  near  to 
death  as  one  Christian  may  another  —  without  having 
his  blood  to  answer  for ! " 


254  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"But  don't  you  know,"  asked  the  merchant,  "that 
if  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  had  caught  you,  he  would 
have  hung  you  up  like  a  chestnut  to  a  tree?" 

"Ay,  sir,"  he  answered  ;  "I  guessed  as  much,  and  so 
I  skipped  over  the  frontier  pretty  quick  before  I  began 
to  laugh!" 

"The  Duke  will  miss  sorely  such  a  paladin  as  you 
are,  if  the  truce  breaks  with  the  King  of  France ! " 
said  the  elder  of  the  two. 

Then,  of  course,  Quentin  saw  that  they  were  making 
a  fool  of  him,  and  he  got  mad.  So  would  nearly  every 
chap. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "I  have  stood  a  lot  because  you  are 
older  than  I,  and  I  can  be  polite  as  well  as  the  next 
fellow.  But  I've  had  enough  of  your  sauce,  and  I  am 
man  enough  to  thrash  the  pair  of  you,  if  you  give  me 
any  more  of  it." 

Something  like  that  he  said,  and  Master  Pierre 
seemed  nearly  to  choke  with  laughter.  But  the  Master 
Butcher  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword,  as  if  it  was  no 
sport  to  him.  He  was  going  to  draw  it,  but  just  then 
Quentin,  who  had  a  pretty  quick  eye,  dropped  the  end 
of  his  hunting  pole  across  his  wrist.  This  touched 
him  up  sharply,  so  that  he  could  not  grasp  his  sword- 
hilt. 

"Come,   no   more   violence,"   said   Master   Pierre; 


THE   SCOTS   ADVENTURER  255 

"drop  it,  you  Scot,  and  you,  Gossip,  take  that  frown 
off  your  face !  You  have  got  to  cry  quits,  both  of  you 
—  the  ducking  against  the  rap  on  the  wrist.  The 
game  is  called  all  square.  And  now  let's  go  to  break- 
fast!" 

That  was  the  gist  of  what  he  said.  Oh,  yes,  and  he 
asked  Quentin  if  he  was  a  born  gentleman,  and  he 
told  him  yes  —  by  fifteen  descents. 

So  —  when  old  Pierre  heard  this,  he  said  that  he  was 
"a  proper  Scot  —  plenty  of  blood,  plenty  of  pride, 
and  a  great  scarcity  of  cash !    And  now  for  a  hunter's 
mass  at  Saint  Hubert's  chapel,  and  then  —  breakfast ! " 

The  service  was  not  long  —  just  a  hunter's  mass, 
and  out  again.  Master  Pierre  told  Quentin  not  to 
stray  off  the  path,  because  all  the  ground  about  the 
royal  chateau  was  chock  full  of  pitfalls  and  traps  — 
scythes  that  came  together  and  snipped  off  your  legs 
before  you  could  say  —  well,  pasques-dieu  or  ventre- 
gris,  or  any  of  the  things  that  used  to  relieve  great  folk 
so  much  in  those  times  —  oh,  and  calthrops  that  stuck 
your  foot  through,  and  pitfalls  that  buried  you  alive,  — 
and  any  number  of  things,  all  to  keep  you  at  a  good 
distance  from  Louis,  King  of  France. 

But  Quentin  said  that  if  he  were  King  of  France,  he 
would  do  away  with  all  those  wolf-traps,  and  trust 
to  the  valour  of  Scottish  gentlemen.  He  would  call 


256  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

about  him  all  the  brave  and  the  wise,  and  reign  so 
justly  that  there  would  be  no  need  for  hiding  behind 
ditches  and  barricades. 

Then  Master  Pierre  smiled,  but  more  kindly  and 
tolerantly,  as  if  he  liked  Quentin  —  even  his  cheek  in 
thus  giving  advice  to  the  King  of  France.  He  asked 
how  he  would  like  being  a  Royal  Archer  of  the  Scottish 
Guard,  dressed  like  a  prince,  fed  high  like  an  abbot, 
and  set  close  about  the  King's  person  in  peace  and  war. 

"If  I  had  any  such  thought,"  Quentin  said,  "it  is 
off ! "  Master  Pierre  was  much  surprised  and  asked  why. 

"•Because  I  am  like  the  Douglas,"  he  said;  "I  like 
to  hear  the  lark  sing  better  than  the  mouse  squeak. 
I  would  not  love  to  be  stuck  in  a  swallow's  nest,  nor 
kept  mewed  up  in  a  guard-room.  Moreover,  I  like 
not  a  castle  of  which  the  gateway  oak  bears  such  acorns 
as  yon!" 

And  he  pointed  at  a  fair  tree  from  which  dangled 
the  dead  body  of  a  man  in  a  grey  jerkin  like  his  own. 

But  Master  Pierre  answered  that  if  he  lived  to  be 
a  loyal  subject  of  his  Prince,  no  perfume  would  be  so 
sweet  to  him  as  the  scent  of  a  dead  traitor. 

Quentin  answered  boldly  that  that  would  be  after  he 
lost  the  sight  of  his  eyes  and  the  scent  of  his  nostrils ; 
and  at  any  rate,  if  he  were  King  Louis,  he  would  hang 
the  rascals  somewhat  farther  from  his  palace. 


THE   SCOTS   ADVENTURER  257 

But  Quentin  was  quite  reconciled  when  at  last  they 
reached  the  little  inn  where  they  were  to  have  break- 
fast ready  for  them.  There  was  something  about 
Master  Pierre  which  he  could  not  quite  understand. 
The  landlord  did  not  chatter,  or  recommend  his  dishes 
to  him.  He  only  bowed  when  Master  Pierre  asked 
him  if  a  gentleman  had  ordered  breakfast. 

Not  only  breakfast,  but  a  fire  also  was  waiting. 
Master  Pierre  did  not  eat  much  himself,  but  he  watched 
with  a  kind  of  pleasure  Quentin  marching  deep  into 
the  bowels  of  a  mighty  pasty,  making  little  of  ragouts, 
balls  of  French  bread,  cups  of  wine,  confections,  and 
lots  of  other  things.  It  was  a  noble  feed,  and  after  he 
had  got  through  with  it,  Quentin  thought  the  coun- 
tenance of  Master  Pierre  looked  far  more  kindly  than 
before. 

Then  after  Quentin  had  been  drawn  out  to  declare 
that  the  Wild  Boar  of  the  Ardennes  was  a  captain  of 
pillagers,  and  the  Duke  of  Gueldres  a  man  who  had 
ill-used  his  own  father,  Master  Pierre  said  laughingly 
that  he  had  better  become  a  captain  himself  —  for 
where  would  one  find  a  chieftain  wise  enough  to 
command  him? 

Of  course  Quentin  Durward  knew  that  Master 
Pierre  was  making  fun,  but  this  time  he  took  no  offence, 
and  only  lamented  that  Saint  Quentin  must  have  for- 


258  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

gotten  his  son,  to  let  him  go  a  day  without  food  and 
then  get  a  ducking  into  the  bargain. 

Just  as  Master  Pierre  was  taking  Quentin  to  task  for 
blaspheming  the  saints,  and  telling  him  that  perhaps 
the  blessed  Quentin  had  done  better  for  him  than  he 
knew,  a  girl  came  in.  She  was  pretty,  of  course,  and 
the  name  which  Master  Pierre  called  her  was  Jacque- 
line —  no,  not  the  usual  sort  of  story-book  girl  —  so 
there  !  Oh,  no,  she  went  about  like  a  princess  —  some- 
thing like  the  girls  in  the  Latin  grammar  examples. 

["Humph,"  said  Sir  Toady,  "a  jolly  lot  of  princesses 
you  have  ever  seen !" 

"  You  had  a  heap  better  —  "  began  Hugh  John,  but 
did  not  pursue  his  threat.  "That's  what  Sir  Walter 
says,  and  you  may  bet  that  he  knew  —  oh,  ton-loads 
of  them!" 

"Pshaw,"  continued  Sir  Toady,  "I've  seen  them 
come  to  the  Coll.  to  visit  some  of  our  chaps,  and 
they  are  just  like  other  people,  only  with  less  side!" 

"Well,"  continued  Hugh  John,  doggedly,  "that 
wasn't  the  kind  of  princess  Jacqueline  was.  She  was 
dark  and  had  eyes  —  " 

"7  don't  like  'em  blind  myself!"  said  Sir  Toady, 
with  the  air  of  a  blast  connoisseur,  "but  fair  —  and 
ooop,  with  curling  ringlets,  be-loo  eyes,  and  lips  like 
a  cherry.  Only  I'd  rather  have  the  cherry!" 


THE   SCOTS   ADVENTURER  259 

"Sir  Toady,"  said  I,  severely,  "I  don't  care  whether 
Hugh  John  thrashes  you  afterwards  or  not,  but  if  you 
interrupt  again  like  that,  for  no  proper  cause,  you  shall 
not  have  even  a  chance  for  the  sovereign  —  you  un- 
derstand?" 

The  youth  understood.  The  bats  and  cuffs  of 
glorious  uncivil  war  he  could  support  with  an  equal 
mind,  but  this  was  his  money  and  his  life.] 

******* 

Master  Pierre  spoke  harshly  to  the  girl,  even  accus- 
ing her  of  not  telling  the  truth.  This  made  Quentin 
angry,  and  he  declared  that  he  would  throw  down  his 
gage  to  any  one  who  would  dare  to  say  that  such  a  face 
could  be  otherwise  than  true  and  pure !  Privately 
Quentin  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  like 
to  see  again  the  girl  with  the  black  eyebrows.  He 
ordered  a  flagon  of  fine  verndt,  and,  as  was  then  the 
custom,  sent  it  by  the  landlord,  with  the  compliments 
of  Quentin  Durward  of  Glen  Houlakin,  a  Scottish 
cavalier,  to  the  girl  and  her  guardian. 

It  was  a  rum  thing  to  do  (Hugh  John  admitted),  but 
they  did  that  sort  of  thing  and  thought  nothing  of  it  in 
those  days.  However,  the  flask  of  wine  was  sent  back 
with  a  civil  message  that  the  ladies  could  not  receive 
it.  They  thanked  him  very  much  —  only,  as  they  were 


26o  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

* 

residing  there  in  privacy,  they  could  not  receive  his 
visit. 

"All  the  same,"  thought  Quentin,  "I  will  see  that 
girl  with  the  dark  brows  again,  whatever  it  costs." 

Then  the  landlord  showed  Quentin  up  to  his  chamber. 
It  was  in  a  corner  tower,  everything  nice,  and  looked 
to  him  quite  like  a  little  palace.  Quentin,  you  see, 
had  had  pretty  rough  sleeping-quarters  for  a  while,  and 
as  for  food,  as  often  as  not  he  had  to  do  without  any 
at  all  —  especially  since  he  lost  his  falcon  near  Peronne. 

Of  course  he  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out  as 
soon  as  he  could.  He  could  see  the  towers  of  the 
royal  castle  of  Plessy,  where  his  uncle  Lesly  served  as 
one  of  the  guards  of  the  King  of  France.  But  instead 
of  looking  if  he  could  see  him  on  the  walls,  do  you 
know  what  Quentin  did? 

[Apparently  nobody  knew  —  at  least  all  were  silent.] 

He  actually  set  to  watching  a  window,  a  lattice 
window  of  the  inn  (tone  of  contempt),  —  yes,  with  all 
that  big  castle  right  before  his  nose,  with  its  defences, 
and  the  men  of  the  Royal  Guard  walking  about  on  top 
of  it,  their  halberds  shining  and  the  plumes  on  their 
bonnets  waving. 

And  all  because  the  girl  was  singing  —  you  know 
the  song,  Sis  —  sing  it  to  us.  You  said  you  would 
when  I  got  to  the  part. 


THE   SCOTS   ADVENTURER  261 

And  from  behind,  aided  by  the  deeper  notes  of 
contralto,  Sweetheart  piped  like  a  blackbird,  while  Sir 
Toady  twanged  on  an  imaginary  lute  and  said  tink- 
a-tank  as  often  as  he  dared. 

This  was  the  song:  — 

"Ah,  County  Guy,  the  hour  is  nigh, 

The  sun  has  left  the  lea, 
The  orange  flower  perfumes  the  bower, 

The  breeze  is  on  the  sea. 
The  lark  his  lay  who  trilled  all  day, 

Sits  hushed,  his  partner  nigh, 
Breeze,  bird,  and  flower,  confess  the  hour  — 

But  where  is  County  Guy? 

The  village  maid  steals  through  the  shade 

Her  shepherd's  suit  to  hear; 
To  beauty  shy,  by  lattice  high, 

Sings  high-born  Cavalier. 
The  Star  of  Love,  all  stars  above, 

Now  reigns  o'er  earth  and  sky; 
And  high  and  low  the  influence  know  — 

But  where  is  County  Guy?  " 

Thank  you,  Sis  (said  Hugh  John),  that's  about 
it,  and  it  would  have  been  all  the  better  without  Sir 
Toadum's  confounded  tink-a-tank  —  for  which,  in  due 
season,  I  shall  whale  him. 

Well,  Quentin  leaned  out  to  have  a  look  at  the  girl  — 
no,  not  to  fling  a  clothes'-brush,  Master  Toadums  — 
you  are  heaping  up  wrath  —  just  you  wait,  my  son ! 


262  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

But  as  soon  as  the  singer  had  twigged  him  at  the 
window,  down  went  the  curtain,  and  Master  Quentin 
saw  no  more  of  the  girl  he  was  in  such  a  fret  about. 

Now  (he  concluded),  that's  about  all  I  can  tell  just 
at  one  time.  It  is  ever  so  nice  the  way  I  get  it  in  my 
head  to  tell,  but  when  it  comes  out,  and  I  have  to  say 
the  words,  it  sounds  just  drivelling ! 

"Surely  you  don't  think  that  a  sov's  worth?"  sneered 
Sir  Toady. 

"Oh,  no,"  cried  Hugh  John,  distressed  at  the  sug- 
gestion ;  "all  that  I  shall  have  to  tell  out  of  the  whole 
book  won't  be  worth  so  much!" 

"Mine  will,  though  —  whole  purses  full!"  said 
Sir  Toady,  who  saw  no  good  in  undervaluing  his 
merchandise  beforehand. 

"Oh,  wait  till  you  try!"  said  Hugh  John.  "It's 
easier  to  think  you  can  do  it  than  to  do  it." 

And  so  the  first  Red  Cap  seance  of  Quentin  Dur- 
ward  down  at  the  old  Feudal  Tower  was  broken  up. 

THE   SECOND   TALE  OF   QUENTIN   DURWARD 

THE   GUARDSMAN   OF   THE   SCOTTISH   ARCHERS 

You  just  believe  (said  Hugh  John)  that  Uncle 
Lesly  looked  fine  when  Quentin  went  down  to  see  him 
next  morning.  They  met  in  the  room  where  he  had 


GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS     263 

breakfasted.  He  was  called  Le  Balafre",  or  the 
Scarred  One,  because  of  a  great  wound  which  had  but 
partly  healed,  going  from  the  brow  to  the  ear,  across 
one  side  of  his  face. 

But  he  looked  martial,  I  tell  you,  and  his  dress  was 
still  finer.  On  his  head  was  a  Scottish  bonnet,  tufted 
with  feathers,  with  a  Virgin  in  silver  for  a  brooch. 
Then  came  the  body  armour,  all  of  the  finest  steel. 
His  shirt  of  mail  glittered  like  frost-work.  Over  all  he 
wore  a  loose  surcoat  of  blue  velvet  open  at  the  sides, 
with  the  cross  of  Saint  Andrew  barred  across  it.  He 
had  hose  of  mail  and  shoes  of  steel.  A  broad  dagger 
was  at  his  side,  and  in  his  hand  a  huge  two-handed 
sword,  which  the  rules  of  his  service  forbade  him  to 
lay  aside. 

This  Le  Balafre  had  a  squire,  a  valet,  a  page,  and 
a  coutelier,  or  "Happy  Despatcher,"  all  in  his  suite, 
the  last  for  the  purpose  of  finishing  the  work  which 
his  master  had  begun  in  case  of  a  battle  or  skir- 
mish. 

Over  a  tankard  of  wine  the  Scarred  One  asked  about 
his  sister  and  her  family.  He  was  surprised,  but  not 
very  much  cast  down,  by  the  news  that  now  Glen 
Houlakin  was  a  wilderness,  that  his  sister  was  dead  and 
all  their  kin,  that  his  father,  uncle,  and  most  of  the 
clan  had  been  slain  in  a  fight  with  the  Ogilvies  of 


264  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Angus  —  the  whole  strath  harried  by  these  Ogilvies, 
and  not  a  reeking  hearth  nor  a  standing  stone  left  in 
Glen  Houlakin. 

His  uncle  said  that  such  was  the  fortune  of  war, 
and  sent  some  links  of  his  gold  chain  to  pay  for  masses 
for  the  souls  of  his  dead  kindred,  and  part  more  to 
pay  for  curses  on  the  Ogilvies  of  Angus-shire  "in  the 
best  way  that  the  Church  might  come  at  them." 

But  he  did  not  seem  to  think  it  was  necessary  to 
open  his  purse  to  his  nephew,  which  made  Quentin 
think  that  perhaps,  after  all,  he  would  have  done  better 
to  have  stayed  with  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  than  have 
come  here  to  find  an  uncle  so  completely  wrapped  up 
in  himself. 

But  the  Scarred  One  meant  better  than  he  said,  and 
ended  by  telling  his  nephew  to  be  at  the  castle  by  eight 
the  following  morning,  to  keep  the  straight  path,  and 
to  ask  the  sentinel  on  duty  for  Ludovic  le  Balafre. 

But  Quentin  came  near  never  going  to  the  castle  of 
Plessy  at  all.  That  same  day  he  was  taking  a  walk 
along  the  riverside  when  he  saw  a  man  being  hanged 
on  a  tree.  There  were  some  talismanic  marks  on  the 
bark,  meant  to  represent  a  fleur-de-lys  —  the  royal 
emblem.  But,  knowing  nothing  of  this,  Quentin  ran 
quickly  and  cut  the  man  down.  He  was  a  gipsy,  but 
already  too  far  gone  to  bring  round  again.  The  whole 


GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS     265 

tribe  were  upon  Quentin  in  an  instant.  For  a  while 
he  was  in  danger  of  his  life,  till  some  French  soldiers 
charged  down  upon  them,  and  captured  Quentin 
like  the  rest. 

Master  Pierre's  "Gossip,"  whose  wrist  he  had 
cracked  with  his  pole,  was  at  the  head  of  them.  He 
would  listen  to  no  argument,  but  ordered  him  to  be 
strung  up  along  with  the  others. 

And  strung  up  Quentin  would  certainly  have  been, 
but  for  one  of  the  Scottish  Guard,  which  was  at  feud 
with  the  Provost  Marshal  and  his  men. 

Cunningham  was  the  man's  name  who  saved  him. 
He  drew  his  long  sword,  with  one  touch  of  his  weapon 
cutting  Quentin's  bonds  and  setting  him  free.  Where- 
upon Quentin  wrenched  a  halberd  from  the  nearest 
marshal's  man,  and  putting  his  back  to  Cunningham's, 
bade  the  others  come  on  if  they  dared. 

Accordingly  the  third  executioner  was  sent  after  the 
Provost  Marshal,  and  the  second  undertook  to  keep 
the  two  Scots  in  the  place  where  they  were  —  that  is, 
if  they  could. 

But  at  the  same  time  as  the  Provost  Marshal  came  in 
sight,  riding  round  one  side  of  the  hill,  half  a  dozen 
Scottish  archers  rode  up,  with  Le  Balafre  at  their  head. 

And  when  he  saw  Quentin  and  his  comrade  standing 
on  their  defence,  he  called  out,  "Thank  you,  Cun- 


266  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

ningham !  Gentlemen,  comrades,  lend  me  your  aid  ! 
It  is  a  young  Scottish  gentleman,  my  own  sister's  son 
—  Lindsay  —  Guthrie  —  Tyrie  —  draw  and  strike  in !" 

It  was  touch-and-go  for  the  prettiest  fight  you  ever 
saw.  The  Marshal's  men  were  most  in  number,  but 
the  Scottish  Archers  were  the  better  armed. 

Le  Balafre'  and  the  rest  would  hear  nothing  from  the 
Provost  Marshal.  They  would  be  judged  only  by  the 
King  or  their  own  Captain.  They  would  be  hanged  by 
none  but  Sandie  Wilson,  the  Marshal's  man  of  their 
own  body,  who,  they  said,  was  as  decent  a  man  as  ever 
tied  noose  upon  hemp. 

"Our  Privileges  —  our  Privileges !  "  they  called  out, 
with  force  enough  to  daunt  even  Tristan  PHermite, 
the  famous  Justicer  of  the  King  of  France. 

"Whatever  your  privileges  may  be,"  said  the  Provost 
Marshal,  "this  young  man  is  not  of  you!  He  is  not 
an  Archer  of  the  Guard  Royal." 

"Stand  to  it  yet,  countrymen,"  whispered  Cun- 
ningham; "say  he  is  enrolled  with  us."  Whereupon 
Le  Balafre  swore  to  it,  and  parting  with  the  angry 
Provost  Tristan,  they  went  back  at  once  to  find  Lord 
Crawford,  the  Captain  of  the  Royal  Scottish  Guard, 
an  old  man,  but  still  stout  and  strong,  though  on  the 
borders  of  eighty. 

He  had  ridden  into  Orleans  with  the  Maid,  Dunois, 


GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS    267 

and  De  Retz,  one  on  either  side.  He  was  one  of  the  last 
of  those  noble  Scots  who  had  fought  for  France  against 
England  in  the  great  wars  of  the  Independence. 

The  Captain  was  first  of  all  for  giving  them  a  good 
scolding  for  getting  him  again  into  trouble  with  the 
King.  The  worst  of  the  lot,  he  said,  were  the  Scarred 
One  and  Archie  Cunningham.  But  since  a  quarrel 
there  was,  he  would  rather  have  it  with  that  Provost 
Marshal  than  with  any  one  else. 

So  he  got  down  quickly  the  roll  of  the  Guard  and 
entered  Quentin  Durward's  name  as  esquire  to  his 
uncle.  That  was  pretty  good  of  him,  you  see.  For 
of  course  he  had  to  go  at  once  to  the  King  and  get  his 
story  told  before  Tristan  got  a  chance  at  Louis.  With 
the  help  of  Oliver  Dain,  the  King's  barber  and  con- 
fidant, he  managed  this,  which,  of  course,  made  Tristan 
1'Hermite  very  mad.  He  even  came  up  to  make  a 
kind  of  apology,  no  doubt  by  order  of  the  King,  but 
Quentin's  uncle  could  see  that  he  was  just  grilling  with 
anger. 

"You  have  made  an  enemy  there,"  said  the  Scarred 
One  to  Quentin ;  "so,  for  that  matter,  have  I,  and  all  of 
us.  But  we  are  above  his  flight,  we  lads  of  the  Scottish 
Archers.  We  do  not  fear  either  Master  Tristan  or  his 
noose !" 

They  drank  in  hall  that  night  to  the  new  recruit, 


268  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

and  Lord  Crawford  joined  them  to  take  a  cup  and  to 
tell  old  tales  of  Scotland.  By  this  time  a  uniform  of 
esquire  had  been  got  for  Quentin,  so  that  he  could 
brave  the  anger  of  the  Provost  Marshal  in  open 
day. 

There  was  news.  Lord  Crawford  said,  to  cheer 
them,  "that  the  old  banner  of  France  would  be  again 
on  the  field  —  " 

"With  a  breeze  from  Burgundy  to  fan  it!"  cried  an 
Archer.  And,  indeed,  war  seemed  likely.  For  the 
Count  of  Crevecceur's  suite  had  been  seen  down  below 
at  the  Hostelry.  The  King  had  declined  to  receive 
him  at  the  castle,  though  he  was  the  ambassador  of 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  The  Count  was  of  hot  temper 
and  little  likely  to  stand  it. 

Besides,  they  had  not  only  fallen  out  about  the  usual 
frontier  rows,  but  there  was  a  girl  in  the  question.  A 
ward  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  had  run  away  to  escape 
being  married  to  one  of  his  Italian  favourites,  and  was 
now  with  the  King  of  France.  Her  name  was  the 
Countess  of  Croye,  and  she  had  brought  a  sort  of 
guardian  with  her.  At  any  rate,  the  Duke,  who  thought 
himself  every  bit  as  good  and  as  powerful  as  the  King 
of  France,  was  sure  to  take  offence,  and  there  would 
be  war  between  the  Overlord  and  his  great  vassal. 

This  news  delighted  the  Archers  greatly,  and  they 


GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS     269 

hoped  for  an  early  chance  to  go  at  the  Burgundians. 
At  any  rate,  there  was  sure  to  be  something  worth 
seeing  when  Louis  XI  of  France  had  audience  of  the 
Count  of  Crevecoeur  bearing  the  Duke's  message, 
which  they  all  believed  to  be  a  cartel  of  defiance. 

Well,  of  course,  being  now  the  esquire  of  an  acting 
officer  of  the  Scottish  Guard,  Quentin  had  to  go  to 
court.  He  was  dressed  much  like  his  uncle,  but  his 
partisan  was  of  a  lighter  make  and  his  armour  not  so 
heavy  or  so  gorgeous. 

First  of  all,  Dunois  was  there,  a  fine  soldier,  and 
though  he  was  popular  and  much  liked  by  everybody,  the 
King  was  not  jealous  of  him.  Indeed,  he  sometimes 
called  him  to  his  councils.  There  was  also  the  Cardinal 
Balue,  a  bishop  who  liked  to  be  thought  half  a  soldier 
and  half  a  courtier,  whose  shrewd  advice  the  King 
took  when  it  suited  him,  though  he  knew  he  was  not 
altogether  to  be  trusted. 

Then,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Dunois,  there  entered 
the  heir  to  the  throne,  afterwards  Louis  XII,  care- 
fully guarded  and  melancholy,  who  was  to  be  com- 
pelled to  marry  Joan,  the  youngest  daughter  of  the 
King,  a  poor  deformed  girl.  But  when  the  King 
himself  came  into  the  presence-chamber  and  all  bowed 
before  him,  Quentin  nearly  dropped  his  partisan  with 
astonishment.  For  the  King  was  no  other  than  Master 


270  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Pierre,  the  merchant  of  Tours  to  whom  he  owed  his 
breakfast  the  day  before. 

The  King  came  straight  up  to  the  place  where 
Quentin  was  posted,  and  said:  "So,  young  man,  I  am 
told  that  you  have  been  brawling  on  your  first  arrival 
in  Touraine.  But  I  pardon  you,  as  it  was  chiefly  the 
fault  of  a  foolish  old  merchant,  who  thought  that  your 
Caledonian  blood  needed  to  be  heated  in  the  morning 
with  wine  of  Beaune.  If  I  can  find  him,  I  will  make 
him  an  example  to  all  those  who  would  debauch  my 
Guards." 

And  as  a  mark  of  favour  he  ordered  that  the  day, 
hour,  and  minute  of  Quentin's  birth  should  be  written 
down  and  given  to  the  King's  barber,  Oliver  Dain. 
Louis  himself  meant  to  search  out  the  young  man's 
horoscope. 

It  was  a  good  beginning,  and  Le  Balafre  bowed  to 
the  ground  before  the  King.  He  was  not  much  of 
a  king  to  look  at.  The  dress  he  wore  was  an  old 
hunting-dress,  dark  blue,  with  a  rosary  of  ebony,  and 
on  his  head  he  wore  a  hat  the  band  of  which  carried 
a  full  dozen  of  little  saints  stamped  in  lead  set  all  round 
about. 

The  King  was  ready  to  mount  for  the  chase,  when 
Dunois  told  him  that  the  Count  of  Crevecceur  demanded 
an  audience  in  terms  so  insolent  that  had  it  not  been 


GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS     271 

for  his  character  of  envoy,  he  would  have  made  him  eat 
them  himself. 

At  this  the  King  laughed. 

"Body  of  me,  Dunois,"  he  said,  "how  is  it  that  you, 
one  of  the  most  impatient  fellows  alive,  shouldst  have 
so  little  sympathy  with  the  same  infirmity  in  our  blunt 
and  fiery  cousin,  Charles  of  Burgundy?  Why,  man, 
we  mind  no  more  his  blustering  messages  than  the 
castle  towers  up  there  do  the  whistling  of  the  north- 
east wind,  which  also  comes  from  Flanders." 

"My  liege,"  said  Dunois,  "Crevecceur  has  his  mas- 
ter's orders  that  if  the  audience  be  not  accorded,  he  is 
to  nail  his  gauntlet  to  the  palisades  of  the  castle  as  a 
token  of  mortal  defiance,  cast  fealty  to  the  winds,  and 
proclaim  instant  war." 

"Ay,"  said  Louis,  frowning  under  his  shaggy  eye- 
brows, "will  he  so?  Nay,  then,  Dunois,  there  will  be 
nothing  for  it  but  to  unfold  the  Oriflamme  and  cry 
Dennis  Montjoye!" 

"Marry  and  Amen  —  a  happy  hour  that  will  be!" 
said  Dunois.  And  the  stir  among  the  guards  in  the 
hall  at  the  good  tidings  was  enough  to  produce  a  low 
but  distinct  sound  of  clashing  arms. 

For  a  moment  the  King  looked,  and  perhaps  felt, 
like  his  father  —  him  who  had  fought  the  English  so 
long.  But  the  next  moment  Louis  remembered  that 


272  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

Edward  IV  was  on  the  throne  of  England,  a  brave  and 
victorious  king,  whose  sister  was  Duchess  of  Burgundy, 
and  that  Cardinal  Balue  was,  as  he  said,  a  good  con- 
ceited animal  of  a  bishop  whom  Rome  had  put  there 
to  watch  him.  He  would  therefore  put  off  fighting  as 
long  as  he  could.  The  next  shuffling  of  the  cards  might 
give  him  a  stronger  hand ! 

Accordingly,  with  these  intentions,  he  bade  them  admit 
the  envoy  of  Burgundy  to  the  presence. 

"Blessed  are  the  peacemakers!"  said  the  Cardinal 
Balue,  who  was  pleased  with  this  decision. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  King,  "and  your  Eminence 
knows  that  those  who  humble  themselves  shall  be 
exalted." 

The  Cardinal  said  "Amen"  to  this.  But  every  one 
else  was  ashamed  for  Louis's  giving  way,  for  so  it 
seemed  to  all  present.  Poor  Louis  of  Orleans  blushed, 
and  the  Scarred  One  let  the  butt  of  his  partisan  fall 
heavily  on  the  floor.  He  was  reproved  for  this  by  the 
Cardinal,  who  gave  him  a  rousing  lecture  on  the  method 
of  handling  his  arms  in  the  presence  of  his  sovereign. 

To  this,  of  course,  Le  Balafr£  answered  nothing, 
but  Dunois  at  once  said  that  he  had  a  boon  to  ask  of 
his  Majesty. 

"You  do  not  often  ask,  Dunois,  and  that  should  be 
in  your  favour ! "  said  the  King. 


GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS     273 

"I  wish,  then,"  said  Dunois,  "that  your  Majesty 
would  send  me  to  Evreux  to  regulate  the  clergy." 

"That  were  indeed  beyond  your  sphere!"  said 
Louis,  smiling. 

"I  might  order  priests  as  well,"  replied  the  Count, 
"as  my  Lord  Bishop  of  Evreux  (or  my  Lord  Cardinal, 
if  he  likes  the  title  better)  can  exercise  the  soldiers  of 
your  Majesty's  guard." 

Louis  soothed  the  angers  of  Dunois  by  bidding  him 
be  patient.  All  would  yet  come  right.  He  would  put 
both  Rome  and  Burgundy  under  his  foot. 

Then  the  Count  of  Crevecceur  came  in,  all  clad  in 
steel  embossed  with  gold,  leaving  only  his  head  bare. 
He  wore  the  cordon  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  his  master's 
order.  A  page  carried  his  helmet  behind  him,  and  a 
herald  went  before,  bending  on  one  knee  to  present  his 
master's  letters  of  credence  to  the  King  of  France. 

The  Burgundian  was  as  insolent  as  he  could  be. 
He  dared  the  King  to  his  face,  accused  him  of  having 
been  seen  in  the  unworthy  disguise  of  a  merchant  of 
Tours  talking  to  the  runaway  Countess  of  Croye  at  the 
little  inn  where  Quentin  had  had  breakfast. 

In  fact,  he  charged  the  King  with  the  exact,  identical 
thing  he  had  done.  But  Louis  was  far  too  cunning  for 
the  brave  rough  Flemish  Count. 

"Bring  forward  your  witness,"  said  the  King;  "place 


274  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

the  man  before  my  face  who  dared  maintain  these 
palpable  falsehoods." 

"You  may  well  speak  in  triumph,  my  lord,"  said  the 
Count;  "for  you  are  well  aware  that  he  was  a  certain 
Bohemian,  Zamet  Magraubin  by  name,  whom  you 
had  hung  by  your  Majesty's  Provost  Marshal  to  pre- 
vent him  standing  here  to  witness  to  the  truth  of  what 
I  say." 

It  was  the  man  whom  Quentin  had  cut  down  when 
he  so  nearly  got  his  own  neck  stretched  for  doing  it 
by  Tristan  1'Hermite. 

The  King  told  the  envoy  that  it  was  quite  evident  he 
had  come  there  simply  for  purposes  of  insult,  that  he 
had  better  say  what  he  had  to  say  and  be  done  with  it. 
Thereafter  the  master  who  had  sent  him  should  answer 
for  it. 

The  Count  of  Crevecceur  threw  his  gauntlet  on  the 
floor  and  challenged  King  Louis  in  the  name  of  his 
master,  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  pronouncing  him  false 
and  faithless,  and  defying  him  as  a  prince  and  as  a  man. 

Then  Dunois,  Orleans,  Lord  Crawford,  and  others 
strove  which  should  lift  the  gauntlet  of  defiance,  while 
the  hall  rang  with  cries  of  "Strike  him  down!  Cut 
him  to  pieces !  He  comes  here  to  insult  our  King  in 
his  own  palace!" 

But  Louis  cried  out  above  them  all  in  a  voice  like 


GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS     275 

thunder  which  overawed  every  other  sound:  " Silence, 
my  lieges !  Lay  not  a  hand  on  the  man,  nor  a  ringer 
on  the  gage !  And  you,  Count,  is  your  duke  made  of 
different  metal  from  other  princes  that  he  asserts  his 
quarrel  in  so  rude  a  manner?" 

"He  is,  indeed,  framed  of  nobler  metal,"  said  the 
Count,  quite  undaunted;  "for  when  not  one  of  the 
princes  of  Europe  dared  to  give  shelter  to  you,  —  King 
Louis,  —  when  you  were  an  exile  and  pursued  by  your 
own  father,  you  were  received  and  protected  like  a 
brother  by  my  noble  master,  whose  generosity  you 
have  so  grossly  misused.  Farewell,  sire,  my  mission 
is  discharged !" 

And  the  Count  left  the  room  abruptly  and  without 
leave-taking. 

Then  the  King  would  not  allow  any  of  his  soldiers 
to  lift  the  gage,  except  the  Cardinal  Balue,  who,  he  said, 
"might  use  his  sacred  office  to  make  peace  among 
princes." 

So  the  Cardinal  hurried  away  to  try  the  force  of  his 
persuasion  on  the  stiff-necked  envoy  of  Burgundy, 
while  Dunois  and  the  French  nobles  raged  behind, 
that  they  were  not  permitted  to  take  up  the  gage  of 
battle  in  their  King's  name. 

But  the  King  would  not  give  way.  Every  hour  of 
peace  was  precious.  They  knew  it,  he  said.  The 


276  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

country  had  had  enough  of  war.  It  had  need  of  re- 
pose, even  for  a  little  while.  And  so  he  tided  over  their 
anger,  till  Balue  returned  with  the  news  that  the  Count 
of  Crevecceur  had  consented  to  remain  twenty-four 
hours  more  at  the  Hostelry  of  the  Fleur-de-Lys,  and  till 
that  time  to  take  back  his  gauntlet. 

"Twenty-four  hours  —  that  is  no  long  time,"  said 
the  King,  "  but  yet  it  may  be  worth  a  year.  At  any  rate, 
it  need  not  interfere  with  our  hunting.  To  the  forest, 
my  gallant  lords !  Here,  Dunois,  lend  me  your  boar- 
spear.  Take  mine.  It  is  too  heavy  for  me.  But 
when  did  you  complain  of  such  a  fault  in  your  lance? 
To  horse,  gentlemen  —  to  horse ! " 

The  boar  hunt  in  the  forest  was  not  long  in  coming 
to  an  end.  The  Cardinal  Balue  was  run  away  with  by 
his  horse  amid  the  laughter  of  the  hunters,  in  which  for 
once  the  King  joined  heartily.  But  after  his  fall,  the 
Cardinal  was  not  long  in  being  joined  by  the  envoy 
of  Burgundy,  who  courteously  offered  a  staid,  quiet 
pony  for  the  Cardinal's  use,  and  marvelled  at  the 
customs  of  the  French  court  which  thus  permitted  them 
to  go  off  and  leave  on  the  ground  their  wisest  statesman 
at  the  mercy  of  the  chase. 

Louis  was  a  good  huntsman,  and  rode  straight  at  the 
great  boar.  But  as  the  horse  shied  from  the  charge, 
the  spear  was  not  heavy  enough  to  kill.  So  Louis, 


GUARDSMAN  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  ARCHERS     277 

dismounting,  advanced  against  the  beast  alone,  hold- 
ing in  his  hand  one  of  these  short,  sharp-pointed  swords 
that  are  good  against  boar  at  close  quarters.  The  boar 
left  the  dogs  to  charge  him,  and  Louis  held  his  sword 
firm.  But  at  the  moment,  owing  to  the  wetness  of  the 
ground,  his  foot  slipped,  the  sword  went  along  the 
beast's  side,  and  Louis  fell  flat  on  the  ground.  The 
boar  rent  his  hunting-cloak  and  passed  over  him.  He 
turned,  however,  to  charge  again,  and  Louis  might  have 
been  slain,  had  it  not  been  for  Quentin,  who  had  fol- 
lowed the  blasts  of  the  King's  horn  when  the  chase  was 
thrown  out.  He  came  up,  however,  just  right,  and 
transfixed  the  boar  with  his  spear. 

The  King  measured  the  animal,  said  a  prayer  to  the 
little  leaden  images  in  his  cap,  and  then,  looking  at 
Quentin,  said:  "So  it  is  you,  my  young  Scot.  You 
have  done  well.  This  pays  for  the  breakfast  over 
yonder.  But  say  nothing  about  having  helped  a  king 
at  a  pinch.  Build  on  no  man's  favour  but  mine  — 
not  on  your  uncle's  —  not  on  Crawford's.  Silence  does 
it  —  silence  and  good  service!" 

It  was  something  like  that  he  spoke,  and  Master 
Pierre  made  good  his  words.  For  soon  after  Quentin 
was  called  by  the  King  for  special  military  duty.  The 
Scarred  One  could  not  believe  his  ears  when  Barber 
Oliver  brought  the  news  to  send  along  his  kinsman. 


278  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"It  must  mean  me!  My  nephew  is  but  an  esquire 
serving  under  my  banner,  not  one  of  the  Archer  Guard." 

"No,"  said  Oliver  Dain,  "his  Majesty  sent  for  the 
register  half  an  hour  ago  and  enrolled  Quentin  Dur- 
ward  among  the  full  members  of  the  Royal  Guard !" 

4t  4>  $  4*  $  .  •  4 

WHAT  THEY  THOUGHT  OF  MASTER  QUENTIN  DURWARD 
AS  IT  WAS  RELATED  BY  HUGH  JOHN 

"/  think  it  is  splendid,"  said  Sweetheart,  who  with 
two  sovereigns  in  her  pocket,  and  three  to  her  current 
account,  could  afford  to  be  generous. 

"And  me!"  said  Maid  Margaret,  who,  however, 
wondered  why  people  should  take  such  trouble  fighting 
and  hunting  pigs  with  spears,  when  they  could  be  roll- 
ing over  and  over  on  the  grass  and  making  daisy  chains. 

"Umm —  "  said  Sir  Toady  Lion,  "there's  less  girl 
in  this,  anyway.  That's  one  comfort." 

The  criticism  of  the  three  grown-up  hearers  was  re- 
served till  the  juniors  had  dispersed.  Nevertheless, 
I  heard  it.  Indeed,  I  made  a  point  of  doing  so. 

"That  boy  will  deserve  his  severing,"  said  Butcher 
Donnan,  "even  though  he  does  tell  it  like  boys  jawing 
together  after  a  football  match,  and  not  like  as  a  tale 
out  of  a  book  to  be  told  —  with  long  words  and  beauti- 
ful sentiments !  That  is,  to  my  mind." 

I  answered  that  I  had  every  intention  of  bestowing 


DIVERS   OPINIONS  279 

the  effigy  of  Edward  VII  done  in  the  heavier  of  the 
precious  metals  upon  the  sagaman,  but  added  that  it 
was  best  to  read  the  book  itself  for  the  sentiments  and 
reflections. 

"Oh,"  said  silent  Chesnay,  the  gamekeeper,  "I  have 
lots  of  time  to  make  suchlike  for  myself.  Anyway,  that 
there  King  of  France  was  a  hot  'un,  so  far  as  I  can  see 
—  that  is,  if  young  Master  Hugh  John  has  got  his  facts 
to  rights." 

These  were,  I  thought,  fairly  correct.  But  the  real 
stiff  stuff  was  yet  to  come.  I  knew  that  Hugh  John 
had  been  spelling  out  Michelet  and  Lavisse  —  two 
histories  of  France  with  which  my  library  was  furnished. 

"No,"  said  Elphie,  the  narrow-eyed,  many- wrinkled 
man-of-the-woods,  "I  know  that  other  young  master 
best  —  him  that  is  always  botherin'  about  eggs  and  the 
habits  of  birds  —  he's  a  — !" 

But  here  he  halted,  out  of  consideration,  I  fear,  for 
the  feelings  of  a  close  relative  of  the  aforesaid  young 
master. 

"Speak  it  out,"  said  I;  "Chesnay  there  knows  that 
he  trespasses,  and  will  not  take  advantage  of  informa- 
tion got  on  neutral  ground.  And  as  for  me,  I  think  I 
know  the  worst  of  this  young  man !" 

Now  certainly  I  did  not  mean  to  propose  Sir  Toady 
for  the  good-conduct  prize  in  an  infant  school.  But 


280  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

beyond  cheek,  cool  and  calculating,  a  roving  propensity 
which  refused  respect  to  the  game  laws  of  his  native 
country,  and  a  perfect  irresponsibility  as  to  the  "tres- 
passing-in-pursuit "  of  wild  birds'  eggs,  there  was 
nothing  against  the  young  man.  He  could  be  trusted 
to  speak  the  truth,  and  he  had  been  carefully  and  even 
austerely  educated  in  obedience  by  his  elder  brother. 

"I  know  that  other,"  said  Elphie,  "him  they  call 
Sir  Toady  among  themselves,  and  it's  my  opinion  he'll 
be  up  to  some  trick  when  his  turn  comes.  I  asked  him 
if  he  was  reading  his  book.  And  he  said  to  me,  says 
he, '  I've  enough  swotting  to  do  at  our  old  Coll.  without 
that.  Let's  go  and  look  up  that  nest  of  young  jays 
in  the  Low  Bridge  Croft.  I  want  them  as  soon  as  they 
are  fledged.'  That's  what  he  says,  says  he. 

'"And  what  in  the  world  do  you  want  jays  for?'  says 
I  to  him. 

"'To  put  under  my  big  sister's  window  in  the  morn- 
ings,' says  he,  'so  that  their  singing  will  cheer  her 
when  she  wakes !  She  will  hear  them  jays  even  in  her 
dreams  of  me  —  yes,  I  bet  she  will !  And  say,  "  Good, 
kind  brother,"  she  will.' 

"Oh,  he  is  a  card  —  that  boy  —  no  end. 

"So  I  says  to  the  young  gentleman  (what  he  knows 
already)  that  jays  did  not  sing  at  all  —  only  yell.  But 
he  answers,  that  was  all  /  knew.  Really,  when  put 


DIVERS   OPINIONS  281 

under  the  window  of  any  one  that  you  wanted  to  wake 
up  as  mad  as  a  hatter,  they  sung  a  beautiful  song. 
He  had  tried  it  on  the  mathematical  master,  he  said,  at 
his  school.  And  it  acted  just  beautiful.  Only  the 
birds  died  —  the  result  of  a  fall,  cage  and  all.  It 
appeared  that  the  string  broke.  He  is  going  to  use 
wire  the  next  time.  Oh,  as  sweet  and  thoughtful  a 
young  gentleman  as  ever  lived!" 

"Humph!"  said  Chesnay,  "he  can  take  all  the  jays 
he  likes  for  me,  so  long  as  you  and  he  let  my  pheasants' 
eggs  alone." 

There  came  a  glint  in  the  old  poacher's  wary  eye, 
answering  one  in  Butcher  Donnan's,  who  had  just  got 
his  game  license  renewed  after  a  warning.  This  meant 
that  it  was  not  the  eggs  that  interested  them. 

"I  never  saw  such  a  man  for  duty  as  you,"  said 
Butcher  Donnan  to  the  gamekeeper;  "early  and  late 
it's  stuffing  them  pheasants.  You  get  all  the  work 
and  none  of  the  thanks.  And  then,  when  at  last  you 
have  got  them  as  tame  as  poultry,  there's  the  pleasure 
of  havin'  people  you  never  saw  before  come  out  of 
town  for  a  day  and  blow  their  blessed  heads  off  — 
'  Tommy- wi'-the-Long-Tail,'  and  'Hirpling  Dick,'  and 
'One-Eyed-Poll,'  all  them  birds  you've  given  names  to 
and  that  you  know  near  as  well  as  your  own  kids!" 

The  gamekeeper  moved  uneasily,  but  said  nothing. 


282  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

There  was  too  much  truth  in  Butcher  Donnan's  sketch. 
His  ringer  was  on  a  sore  spot. 

Now  John  Chesnay's  master,  Colonel  Davenant 
Carter,  had  been  a  fine  sportsman  in  his  day,  and  even 
now  preserved  strictly.  But  he  had  killed  tiger  in 
the  Mysore  jungles  with  Canaree  trackers  scattering 
every  way  to  let  him  have  a  fair  chance  to  stop  the 
charge  of  angry  "Stripes."  He  had  been  in  the  ele- 
phant keddahs  with  Sanderson,  and  killed  snow  leopard 
with  Younghusband.  He  had  even  trailed  the  white 
tiger  among  the  Amour  mountains  before  the  war. 

So  he  counted  little,  as  far  as  his  own  idea  of  sport 
was  concerned,  upon  the  pheasants  which  Chesnay 
reared  with  such  care.  He  paid  his  obligations  with 
them,  however,  and  it  was  counted  by  many  that. a 
day  in  the  Colonel's  preserves  was  no  mean  privilege. 

The  Colonel  was  a  personal  friend  of  Sir  Toady 
Lion's,  and  to  him  that  youth  recounted  his  iniquities 
on  the  express  condition  that,  speaking  as  from  one 
gentleman  to  another,  he  should  on  no  account  tell 
either  John  Chesnay  or  even  old  Keeper  Dixon  —  now 
retired,  but  still  a  friend  of  the  game. 

"It's  not  those  gentlemen  who  come  from  the  city 
that  do  the  most  harm  among  my  pheasants,"  said 
Chesnay,  slowly;  "they  don't  know  enough.  They 
only  fire  at  what  we  put  for  them.  Them  what  know 


DIVERS   OPINIONS  283 

enough   to    nab    the    pheasant    harmful,  live    nearer 
home!" 

There  was  a  silence  after  this  somewhat  pointed  re- 
mark, and  I  hastened  to  ask  the  company  over  a  cigar  ! 
apiece,  offered  as  a  pipe  of  peace,  what  they  thought  ' 
of  Quentin  Durward. 

"A  good  lad,"  decided  the  Butcher,  arbiter  of  taste, 
"oh,  a  good  lad  —  must  have  been  well  taught  by  his 
father.  Smart,  too,  except  in  not  seeing  at  once  who 
that  there  burgess  was  —  sort  o'  town-councillor  he 
looked.  Course  outside  of  a  novelle"  (Butcher  Don- 
nan  pronounced  the  word  French  fashion)  "a  boy  as 
smart  as  Quentin  would  have  spotted  at  once  that  it 
was  the  King.  But  what  I  object  to  is,  making  them 
say  all  through  that  that  hangman  brute  was  like  a 
butcher !  Now  do  /  look  like  a  hangman  ?  " 

And  Mr.  Donnan  turned  a  sturdy,  round,  apple- 
cheeked  countenance  upon  us,  with  only  a  little  narrow- 
ing about  the  eyes,  and  two  deep  lines,  one  at  each  side 
of  the  mouth,  to  warn  the  onlooker  that  he  had  before 
him  an  ex-middle-weight  champion,  and  not  mine  host 
of  the  Fleur-de-Lys  serving  out  drinks  on  a  feast  day 
to  the  Archers  of  the  Guard. 

It  was  the  unanimous  opinion  of  all  present  that 
Butcher  Donnan  did  not  look  like  a  hangman.  Poacher 
Elphie  was  particularly  strong  on  this  point. 


"'A  butcherly  fellow!'"  quoted  Mr.  Donnan;  "how 
often  I  have  heard  those  words  in  books  and  stories !  I 
wish  I  could  get  at  the  man  that  said  them  first,  or  even 
at  one  of  the  follow-my-leaders  —  I  would  learn  them ! " 

"This  Quentin  had  great  luck,"  said  Elphie,  criti- 
cally, to  change  the  subject.  "Either  he  came  up  just 
at  the  nick  of  time,  and  saved  the  King,  or  else  some- 
body came  up  and  saved  him,  with  the  rope  already 
round  his  neck  and  old  Tristan  saying,  'Heave  ho, 
boys  —  up  she  goes ! '" 

"That,"  said  I,  feeling  myself  an  expert  at  the  busi- 
ness, "is  the  way  with  all  real  heroes.  Many  have 
tried  to  alter  it,  but  nobody  will  read  their  books !  So 
they  have  just  to  change  back  again  to  the  old  style  of 
hero.  You  don't  know  many  of  them  in  actual  life, 
but  I  knew  one ! " 

Here  all  gazed  at  me,  obviously  in  search  of  informa- 
tion. 

"And  who  might  he  be?"  said  Butcher  Donnan,  who 
had  the  greatest  liberty  of  speech. 

"Why,  myself!"  I  said  firmly. 

"Oh!"  said  Butcher  Donnan. 

"Ah!"  said  Elphie,  the  Poacher. 

As  for  Gamekeeper  John  Chesnay,  he  said  nothing. 
But  he  looked  at  me  from  head  to  foot  and  shaped  his 
mouth  as  if  to  whistle. 


DIVERS   OPINIONS  285 

I  nodded  firmly,  sure  of  my  quality. 

"You  see  it  is  this  way,"  I  said:  "all  authors  have 
just  one  hero,  that  is  the  Self  they  would  have  liked 
to  be,  the  gallant  boy  they  were  not,  the  fellow  who 
defied  the  master  when  they  whimpered  to  be  let  off, 
who  fought  the  wounded  tiger  when  they  would  have 
gladly  shinned  up  a  tree,  who  cleft  a  way  through  the 
hostile  ranks  when  they  would  have  followed  Boer 
tactics  and  got  behind  the  nearest  rock.  That's  your 
'  hero '  —  just  the  author  if  he  had  shoes  of  swiftness, 
helmet  of  invisibility,  and  a  shirt  of  mail  that  would 
defy  all  the  Dreadnought's  twelve-inchers  firing  into 
him  at  once." 

They  thanked  me  for  the  information,  but  evidently 
preferred  to  accept  their  heroes  at  face  value,  without 
inquiring  whence  they  came. 

"But  was  there  never  such  a  man  as  Quentin?" 
demanded  Donnan,  who  still  kept  the  severe  gravity 
of  his  face,  frowning  as  over  a  problem;  "coz  if  there 
weren't,  I,  for  one,  am  not  coming  back  to  listen  to 
lies!" 

I  hastened  to  reassure  these  anxious  inquirers. 

"Certainly,"  I  said;  "not  only  one,  but  many  of 
them.  Not  only  Glen  Houlakin,  but  every  glen  in 
Scotland  sent  out  its  own  Quentin  to  fight  'for  his  ain 
hand '  —  either  to  finish  up  under  sod  in  the  common 


286  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

trench  of  some  battle-field,  swing  on  a  foreign  gallows- 
tree,  or  become  a  gallant  archer  in  some  King's  Guard." 

"Thankee,"  said  Butcher  Donnan;  "it's  a  real  com- 
fort- to  hear  that  the  laddie's  tale  is  true.  I  suppose 
you  would  not  let  us  club  together,  and  put  a  bit  to 
the  sov  you  are  going  to  give  him." 

I  thought  not.  The  precedent  was  bad,  though  I 
appreciated  the  kind  thought. 

"Well,"  said  Butcher  Donnan,  "there's  no  harm  in 
sending  him  down  a  good  bone  for  the  dog  —  now,  is 
there?" 

"And  if  I  should  see  him  in  my  woods  —  "  began 
Keeper  Chesnay.  He  meant  there  would  be  nothing 
said.  I  asked  him  if  he  could  not  extend  that  courtesy 
to  a  certain  younger  brother. 

But  the  grim  man  of  leggings  shook  his  head,  and 
answered  dubiously:  "That's  as  may  be.  At  any  rate, 
tell  him  to  keep  away  from  the  pheasant  hutches!" 

This  came  perilously  near  to  slander,  but  it  was  of 
the  sort  to  which,  as  a  father,  I  was  well  accustomed, 
and,  as  a  man,  I  could  support  with  equanimity.  So  I 
nodded  to  the  Keeper,  as  he  put  my  Havana  cigar 
away  in  his  pouch,  because  (as  he  said)  "she  smokes 
better  chopped  up  with  some  real  tobacco!" 

I  was  left  alone  with  Elphie,  who  grinned  at  the  keep- 
er's back.  "Master  Toady,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice, 


DIVERS   OPINIONS  287 

"is  a  better  judge  than  to  meddle  with  his  hutch- 
hatched  eggs.  Why  for  should  he?  Does  not  John 
Chesnay  and  his  master  kindly  feed  up  the  Poultry- 
with-the-Long-Tails  —  yes,  better  than  fighting-cocks. 
They  buys  good  hen  eggs  from  all  the  farms.  Why, 
I  sell  them  six  dozen  at  a  time  myself,  and  all  for  what  ? 
—  to  chop  up  and  feed  to  them  blessed  birds !  Lift 
their  eggs  ?  No  —  not  by  a  great  deal.  We  know 
better.  Most  kind  it  is  of  John  Chesnay,  and  of  the 
Colonel !  And  it  would  not  be  me  —  nor  yet,  begging 
your  pardon,  the  young  gentleman  aforesaid  —  that 
would  meddle  with  them  nice  clutches  of  eggs  down 
yonder  —  not  till  there's  something  that  a  man  can  eat 
with  a  knife  and  fork,  and  not  just  with  a  teaspoon 
and  a  little  salt!" 

Elphie  looked  about  him  with  a  vaguely  wistful  ex- 
pression. 

"It's  a  pity,"  he  said,  "that  such  talents  as  that 
young  gent  has  should  be  wasted  on  a  sailor.  At  sea, 
now,  he  won't  have  no  scope  to  make  his  name.  It's 
in  the  woods !" 

"Yes,  I  know,"  I  .remarked,  cutting  him  short, 
111  on  a  shiny  night  —  in  the  season  of  the  year.'  But 
after  all,  he  will  be  better  on  the  high  seas  keeping  his 
King's  laws  than  breaking  them  on  shore." 

"I  hope,"  said  Elphie,  shrewdly,  "that  your  Honour 


288  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

does  not  'emply'  that  remark  to  a  little  friendly  visiting 
of  plantations  —  looking  for  moths.  Very  fond  o' 
moths  is  our  young  gentleman  —  and  I  helps  him ! " 

This  was  well  and  very  well  for  the  House  of  the 
Conscript  Fathers,  the  Red  Cap  Senate,  as  it  were. 

"But  by  the  yellow  Tiber, 
Was  terror  and  affright" 

Quentin  and  Le  Balafre  (which  is  to  say,  Hugh  John 
and  Nipper  Donnan)  had  captured  King  Louis  (Maid 
Margaret)  and  a  very  angry  and  revengeful  Tristan 
1'Hermite  in  the  person  of  her  younger  brother.  They 
were  endeavouring  to  hang  them  with  their  own  cord 
—  the  Maid's  skipping-rope  —  to  the  branches  of  a 
neighbouring  noble  elm. 

Maid  Margaret  was  almost  ready  to  cry  with  rage, 
and  Sir  Toady  was  kicking  his  loyal  best,  when  Sweet- 
heart arrived  on  the  scene  armed  with  the  largest  gar- 
den squirt,  and  at  once  changed  the  aspect  of  affairs. 
Nipper  received  the  first  discharge  full  in  the  neck, 
and,  turning  to  view  his  new  assailant,  was  adroitly 
pushed  by  Sir  Toady  into  the  "yellow  Tiber,"  from 
which,  along  with  his  pockets  full  of  water,  he  was 
presently  rescued,  an  angry  boy,  indeed  —  as  eager  to 
break  the  heads  of  all  his  assailants  (except  Sweetheart) 


DIVERS   OPINIONS  289 

as  was  ever  Quentin  rising  dripping  from  the  unnamed 
tributary  of  the  Cher. 

This  put  a  stop  to  the  irregular  and  incorrect  repre- 
sentation of  "Quentin"  upon  the  stage  of  the  water-side 
meadow.  Nipper  Donnan's  ardour  became  suddenly 
so  moderated  that  he  made  haste  to  "hook  it" — in 
order,  as  he  confessed,  to  reach  home  before  the  "Dad." 
Thus  he  would  get  a  chance  to  change  his  wet  clothes. 
For  Butcher  Donnan,  having  to  pay  for  the  family 
clothes,  did  not  believe  in  renewing  them  oftener  than 
the  strictest  necessity  required.  He  was,  indeed,  accus- 
tomed to  take  the  amount  out  of  the  "hide"  of  the 
clothes-destroyer,  on  the  principle  that  the  hide  afore- 
said would  mend  for  itself,  but  the  damaged  clothes 
would  not. 

Nipper  felt  that  there  was  a  flaw  in  this  reasoning, 
though  he  was  not  able  to  say  just  where. 

When  he  was  gone,  the  House  of  Commons  sat  upon 
the  case  of  Master  Quentin  Durward.  Hugh  John  was 
Speaker  on  this  occasion.  That  is  to  say,  he  was  the 
only  one  who  did  not  speak. 

"I  don't  call  Louis  XI  a  proper  king  at  all,"  said 
Sweetheart.  "Why  should  he  not  have  had  tourna- 
ments, and  courts  of  love,  and  splintering  lances,  and 
Queens  of  Beauty,  like  the  rest?" 

"I  suppose  you  would  have  put  up  for  that  last!" 
suggested  Sir  Toady  Lion,  sneeringly. 


290  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

The  Speaker  said  nothing,  but  bent  upon  the  hon- 
ourable member  a  look  which  said  as  plain  as  print, 
"I'll  lick  you,  Toadums,  as  soon  as  this  honourable 
sitting  is  over." 

The  young  man  was  undaunted  —  that  as  a  matter 
of  course.  Lickings,  taken  or  given,  arrived  too  much 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature  to  be  matter  of  re- 
mark. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  he  went  on  —  "how  like  a  girl !  Sis 
thinks  that  nobody  can  be  a  king  who  does  not  prance 
about  in  his  crown  all  day  long!  It  would  be  like 
going  into  a  wood  to  —  observe  the  habits  of  birds  — 
with  three  drums  and  the  town  band.  Look  at  our 
King.  I  suppose  none  of  you  dare  say  that  there  is 
any  better  king  going,  or  one-half  so  good.  But  does 
he  take  his  whole  navy  around  and  a  thousand  men  of 
his  guard?  Does  he  say,  'Now,  all  you  little  people, 
come  out  and  see  how  grand  I  am ! ' 

"You  better  believe  not.  He  nips  about  in  his 
yacht,  here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow.  And  he  says, 
'Won't  you  come  aboard  and  see  the  fittings?  Got 
some  nice  things  to  show  you  —  and  we  can  have  a  talk 
and  a  smoke,  feet  on  the  chimneypiece,  something  iced 
at  your  elbow,  and  everybody  as  thick  as  thieves ! ' ' 

"Oh,"  said  Sweetheart,  "I  know,  but  that  is  nowa- 
days. There  were  not  any  steam  yachts  then,  and  if 


DIVERS    OPINIONS  291 

there  had  been,  Louis  would  have  stopped  in  his  old 
castle  just  the  same !" 

"Rubbish!"  said  Sir  Toady;  "don't  tell  me!  He 
would  have  done  like  the  others.  Everybody  who  has 
a  yacht  will  go  in  her  —  costs  a  jolly  lot  of  money, 
though!" 

"I  know  somebody  who  wouldn't  go  in  a  yacht  — 
not  if  he  had  whole  navies  of  them ! "  said  Sweetheart, 
triumphantly. 

This  singular  personage  was  also  well  known  to  Sir 
Toady,  and  the  discussion  was  felt  to  be  closed  on  this 
head. 

"  And  what  about  the  King?  "  asked  Sweetheart  of 
Hugh  John,  who  had  acquired  a  considerable  fund  of 
information  outside  of  the  tale  he  was  telling.  "  Was 
he  really  as  bad  as  he  is  made  out?  " 

"Worse,  if  anything,  I  think!  Oh,  loads  worse!" 
said  Hugh  John;  "he  was  pretty  bad  to  his  father, 
worse  to  his  children,  and  worst  of  all  to  any  one  who 
offended  him,  or  came  in  the  way  of  what  he  wanted 
to  do.  Only  he  wasn't  such  a  bad  king  for  the  people 
or  for  France.  He  kept  out  of  war  when  he  could, 
cheating  people  instead,  and  ended  by  making  France 
a  proper  kingdom.  But  of  course  Quentin,  being  the 
hero,  naturally  had  to  see  the  best  of  him,  especially  at 
first." 


29a  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"Well,"  said  Sweetheart,  "after  all,  I  like  Charles 
the  Bold  better  —  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  I  mean !" 

Hugh  John  sighed,  for  in  his  secret  heart  so  did  he. 
But  he  had  identified  himself  with  Royal  Archer  Quentin 
Durward,  and  as  such  he  was  bound  to  support  the 
Auld  Alliance,  even  when  represented  by  the  Eleventh 
Louis. 

So  he  only  said,  "Charles  the  Bold  should  be  really 
named  'Charles  the  Rash.'  He  was  what  King  James 
VI  in  Nigel  called  Francis  I  —  'A  fechtin'  fool !'" 

"Well,"  said  Sweetheart,  who,  since  she  has  been  at 
school,  is  sometimes  inclined  to  let  her  tongue  run  away 
with  her,  "if  you  two  enter  the  army  or  the  navy  — " 

But  she  stopped  in  time,  and  applied  herself  to  her 
needlework,  while  Hugh  John  began  to  read  up  for 
his  next  attempt,  and  Sir  Toady  and  Maid  Margaret 
had  their  usual  friendly  tussle  with  the  dogs  on  the 
green. 

WHICH  IS  THE  END  OF  HUGH  JOHN'S  SECOND  TALE  FROM 
"QUENTIN  DURWARD" 


ON  THE  KING'S   BUSINESS  293 

HUGH   JOHN'S   THIRD   TALE  FROM  "QUENTIN 
DURWARD  " 

ON  THE  KING'S  BUSINESS 

ADVENTURES  came  to  Quentin  (said  Hugh  John,  when 
all  were  again  gathered  at  the  Feudal  Tower)  as  they 
should  to  a  proper  hero. 

The  King  sent  for  him  to  place  him  on  duty,  first  in 
a  lonely  hall,  and  afterwards  in  the  banqueting  cham- 
ber, where  he  was  entertaining  the  Cardinal  Balue  and 
the  envoy  of  Burgundy. 

Louis  did  nothing  openly  that  he  could  do  secretly, 
so  he  placed  Quentin  right  behind  the  buffet,  with  his 
long-barrelled  gun  charged  and  his  slow-match  burning. 
The  King  feared  treachery.  Indeed,  he  spent  his  life 
that  way.  He  knew  that  Crevecoeur  and  Cardinal 
Balue  had  met  on  the  day  of  the  boar  hunt,  and  he  was 
doubtful  of  Balue  being  true  to  him. 

Anyway,  he  was  not  going  to  run  the  risk.  He  ordered 
Quentin  to  listen  to  all  that  passed,  and  if  he  should 
hear  the  King  call  out,  "Ecosse,  en  avant!"  he  was 
instantly  to  throw  down  the  buffet  and  fire  upon 
Crevecoeur. 

"As  for  the  Cardinal,"  the  King  added,  "Oliver  and 
I  can  manage  him.  But  if  your  piece  fail,  close  with 
Crevecceur  and  use  the  knife." 


294  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

The  banquet  was  splendid  and  complete,  as  Quentin 
afterwards  tested.  He  had  gone  without  dinner  that 
night  in  the  hurry  of  making  ready  to  obey  the  summons 
of  the  King.  Louis  talked  of  old  days  in  Burgundy, 
of  nobles  and  ladies  whom  he  had  known  during  his 
exile  there.  Nothing  seemed  farther  from  his  mind 
than  any  treachery.  Yet  he  sometimes  gave  a  look  full 
of  meaning  in  the  direction  of  the  buffet,  behind  which 
Quentin  stood,  ready,  if  called  upon,  to  step  forward 
and  slay  his  principal  guest.  Nothing,  however,  hap- 
pened. Whatever  secret  there  was  between  the  Car- 
dinal and  the  Count  had  to  be  kept  till  another  time. 

But  Quentin's  night  of  adventure  was  not  yet  fin- 
ished. He  was  recalled  by  the  King  to  the  same  Hall 
of  Roland  where  he  had  been  placed  on  duty -at  first. 
.  "Take  notice,"  said  Louis,  "that  you  have  never 
left  this  post.  Not  a  word  to  your  uncle  or  to  your 
comrades.  Put  this  chain  of  gold  about  your  neck 
to  buckle  the  fact  on  your  memory.  Now,  you  are  to 
watch  here  in  this  hall.  You  are  to  listen  and  you  are 
to  repeat  to  me  what  you  hear.  No  man,  save  Oliver 
Dain  or  I,  must  enter  here  this  night,  but  there  will  be 
ladies.  If  spoken  to,  let  your  answers  be  brief  and 
soldierly.  Remember,  I  have  bought  you,  body  and 
soul!" 

In  his  heart  Quentin  thought  that  there  might  be 


ON  THE  KING'S   BUSINESS  295 

two  words  about  that,  but  he  only  betook  him  to  his 
duty.  First  there  entered  the  King's  daughter,  Joan, 
then  the  two  escaped  ladies,  the  Countess  Hameline 
and  the  Countess  of  Croye.  These  three  began  to 
talk  without  knowing  the  Princess  for  the  King's 
daughter.  She  had  doubtless  been  sent  on  ahead  to 
try  them,  with  Quentin  as  a  check  upon  them  all. 
Quentin  came  very  near  losing  the  King's  favour  by 
letting  in  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  Quentin  admitted  him 
only  on  condition  that  he  should  bear  him  witness  with 
the  King  that  he  had  done  the  duty  of  his  post,  so  far 
as  the  will  of  the  first  prince  of  the  blood  permitted. 

"Do  your  duty,"  said  the  Prince,  "but  not  against 
Louis  of  Orleans!" 

The  Duke  openly  neglected  the  pale  Joan,  to  whom 
he  was  promised  in  marriage,  and  paid  what  court  he 
could  to  the  beautiful  Countess  of  Croye  till  Joan  grew 
almost  ill.  Indeed,  at  last  she  fainted  altogether,  and 
had  only  come  to  herself  in  the  Duke's  arms  when  the 
King  entered  the  Gallery. 

First  of  all,  he  said  angrily  to  Orleans,  "You  here, 
fair  cousin?"  And  then,  turning  to  Quentin,  he  de- 
manded sternly,  "Had  you  not  charge?" 

"Forgive  this  young  man,  sire,"  said  the  Duke; 
"he  did  not  neglect  his  duty,  but  I  was  informed  that 
the  Princess  was  in  the  Gallery ! " 


296  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

But  after  they  were  gone  and  the  King  and  he  were 
left  alone,  Louis  gave  the  young  guardsman  a  severe 
lesson. 

"Thou  hast  done  foul  wrong,  and  deserve  to  die!" 
said  the  King.  "What  hadst  thou  to  do  with  dukes 
or  princesses?  What  with  anything  but  my  order?" 

"But  please,  your  Majesty,"  said  Quentin,  "what 
could  I  do?" 

"Do?"  cried  the  King,  scornfully;  "what  could  you 
do  when  your  post  was  forcibly  passed?  Why,  put 
your  piece  to  your  shoulder,  and  if  the  presumptuous 
rebel  did  not  retire  on  the  instant,  he  should  have  died 
within  this  very  hall." 

Quentin  was  pretty  glad  to  get  off  so  nicely,  as  you 
may  think.  Things  might  easily  have  gone  much 
worse  with  him,  but  he  was  only  packed  off  to  his 
quarters  with  the  message  that  on  the  way  he  was  to 
send  Oliver  Dain  to  the  King. 

Oliver  Dain,  the  King's  barber,  was  his  closest 
adviser.  He  was  called  Oliver  the  Bad,  or  sometimes 
Oliver  the  Devil. 

["  Six  cuts  in  the  gym  for  swearing ! "  said  Sir  Toady ; 
"three  howls,  and  not  a  stain  upon  your  character  after- 
wards. It  was  all  owing  to  that  bad,  bold  book  Quentin 
Durward  I  I  know ! "  ] 

Sometimes  called  Oliver  the  Devil  (Hugh  John  went 


QUENTIN    AND    THE    DUKE    OF    ORLEANS. 


ON  THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  297 

on,  in  a  level  voice,  without  paying  the  least  atten- 
tion), and  he  and  the  King  held  a  council.  They 
made  up  their  mind  that  the  best  thing  to  do  would 
be  to  send  Isabelle  of  Croye  to  the  care  of  the  Bishop 
of  Liege,  who  was  a  prince  as  well,  and  an  elector  of  the 
Empire  all  in  one. 

Louis  decided  to  send  them  under  the  escort  of 
Quentin  Durward,  in  whom  he  had  great  faith,  because 
(as  he  said)  he  had  teen  sent  to  him  directly  from  the 
saints. 

Secretly,  however,  Louis  meant  to  deliver  up  Isabelle 
of  Croye  to  a  kind  of  noble  bandit,  William  de  la  Marck, 
called  the  Wild  Boar  of  the  Ardennes.  He  was  of 
good  birth,  but  prided  himself  on  doing  all  sorts  of 
abominable  things.  For  this  he  was  generally  barred 
by  all  decent  people,  had  been  excommunicated  by  the 
Pope,  and  put  under  the  ban  of  the  Empire  —  none  of 
which,  however,  troubled  him  very  much.  He  had 
about  him  lots  of  bad,  bold  soldiers,  pretty  much  like 
bandits  and  assassins,  but  because  of  that  he  could 
carry  on  war  against  any  one  except  the  two  great  pow- 
ers of  France  and  Burgundy. 

Now  you  see  this  King  of  France  couldn't  do  a  straight 
thing  if  he  tried — and  he  didn't  even  try.  He  wanted 
to  make  William  de  la  Marck  marry  the  Countess  of 
Croye.  So  he  arranged  'to  have  a  message  sent  by  a 


298  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Bohemian  (or  gipsy)  to  the  Wild  Boar  of  the  Ardennes, 
that  he  could  catch  a  rich  and  beautiful  bride  by  keep- 
ing watch  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Maes  near  Liege, 
where  they  were  to  pass. 

He  did  not  bother  at  all  about  Quentin,  who,  of  course, 
would  fight  to  the  death.  If  he  lost  one  faithful  ser- 
vant, he  said,  Saint  Julian  would  find  him  another.  To 
annoy  Burgundy  and  its  duke  was  the  principal  thing 
at  present.  For  this  he  would  deliver  Isabelle  of  Croye 
to  a  kind  of  ogre,  and  allow  his  good  servant  Quentin 
to  be  done  to  death. 

But  during  the  journey,  of  course,  Quentin  had  fallen 
in  love  with  the  young  Countess.  To  start  with,  he 
had  fought  against  two  knights  who  came  out  to  take 
her  out  of  his  hands.  One  of  these,  whom  he  unhorsed, 
was  no  other  than  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  first  prince  of 
the  blood,  and  the  other  Dunois,  the  best  knight  in 
Europe.  He  held  his  own  (at  least)  against  Dunois,  in 
spite  of  having  his  helmet  cleft  at  the  first  blow.  But 
Lord  Crawford,  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  archers,  put  an 
end  to  the  fight,  and  left  Quentin  at  liberty  to  go  his 
way,  while  he  carried  off  Dunois  and  Orleans  to  the 
Dungeons  of  Loches,  the  strongest  and  most  terrible 
castle  in  France,  a  perfect  rabbit  warren  of  under- 
ground dungeons. 

As  Quentin  went  on  his   journey,  he   kept   good 


ON   THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  299 

watch.  But  at  the  same  time  he  talked  as  much  as  he 
could  with  the  two  ladies  of  Croye  —  with  the  younger 
when  he  could,  and  with  the  elder  when  he  had  to. 

His  guide  was  a  brother  of  the  Bohemian  whom  on 
his  first  day  in  Touraine  Quentin  had  cut  down.  He 
was  none  the  better  of  that,  having  treachery  in  his 
blood.  Indeed,  the  only  good  things  about  him  were 
the  capital  horse  which  he  rode  and  a  certain  liking  for 
Quentin  —  whom,  however,  he  meant  to  betray  just 
the  same ! 

One  night  on  their  journey,  Quentin,  suspecting  evil, 
watched  the  gipsy  steal  cautiously  away,  after  getting 
himself  turned  out  of  the  monastery  where  they  were 
lodging.  He  traversed  a  meadow  till  he  came  to  a 
stream  about  which  grew  many  little  clumps  of  willow 
and  alder.  Then  the  gipsy  stood  still  and  blew  some 
low  notes  on  his  horn. 

"I  will  stalk  him,"  said  Quentin  to  himself,  "as  if 
he  were  a  Glen-Isla  deer.  Why  should  I  fear  vaga- 
bond gipsies?  I  have  crossed  swords  with  Dunois, 
the  best  knight  in  France.  By  Saint  Andrew,  they  will 
find  me  both  stout  and  wary!" 

So  he  stepped  down  into  the  channel  of  the  stream 
and  ascended  it  noiselessly  (which  is  a  good  way  to  get 
to  any  bird's  nest,  Master  Toady,  if  you  don't  know 
already,  the  sound  of  the  water  dulling  the  footsteps). 


300  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Then  he  came  to  an  ancient  weeping  willow,  and 
catching  by  a  branch,  lifted  himself  into  the  branches, 
where  he  was  perfectly  concealed. 

But  the  man  whom  his  guide  was  talking  with  was 
one  of  his  own  tribe.  They  talked  gipsy  talk,  and 
Quentin  could  not  understand  a  word,  though  by  the 
guide  rubbing  himself  with  his  hand  here  and  there, 
and  jumping  about,  he  made  out  that  he  was  making 
merry  at  the  beating  he  had  got  when  turned  out  of 
the  monastery. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  a  tall,  stout,  soldierly  man 
joined  them,  evidently  a  German  mercenary  in  the  pay 
of  William  de  la  Marck.  With  him  the  two  gipsies 
discussed  the  ambush  at  the  Cross  of  the  Three  Kings 
—  on  the  way  to  Liege,  where  the  ladies  were  to  be 
taken. 

But  the  guide  made  the  soldier  of  the  Wild  Boar 
swear  that  he  would  save  the  life  of  Quentin,  to  whom 
he  had  taken  a  liking.  The  Ardennes  man  swore  he 
would,  by  the  Three  Kings  of  Cologne,  turning  his 
face  to  the  east  to  do  it. 

But  whether  he  meant  to  keep  it  is  quite  another 
matter.  At  any  rate,  for  his  own  sake  as  well  as  that 
of  his  ladies,  Quentin  did  not  give  him  a  chance  either 
to  break  or  keep.  He  changed  his  route  from  the 
right  bank  of  the  river  to  the  left,  and  arrived  safely 


ON  THE  KING'S   BUSINESS  301 

at  Liege,  where  he  delivered  his  charges  safely  to  the 
good  Prince  Bishop. 

The  Bishop  was  a  fast  ally  of  Burgundy,  and  not 
only  gained  in  safety  from  this,  but  in  authority,  also. 
For  it  was  known  that  whoever  harmed  the  Prince 
Bishop  had  to  do  with  Charles  of  Burgundy.  Only 
the  people  of  Liege  had  waxed  rich  and  were  inclined 
to  kick,  as  it  says  in  the  Bible.  Wealth  had  made  wit 
to  waver,  and  so  they  were  to  pay  for  this,  not  once,  but 
twice. 

Willy-nilly,  the  Liege  people  would  have  it  that 
Quentin  was  an  envoy  of  the  King  of  France.  They 
wanted  a  chance  to  rebel  and  hoped  for  the  support 
of  Louis.  They  pointed  in  proof  of  this  to  the  Saint 
Andrew's  cross  and  fleur-de-lys  in  his  bonnet. 

"Surely  he  is  of  the  Guard  of  King  Louis !"  said  one 
of  the  city  syndics,  by  name  Pavilion,  and  when  Quen- 
tin owned  it,  saying,  "Well,  and  what  then?"  Pavilion 
turned  about  to  the  crowd,  crying  out:  "He  has  con- 
fessed it !  Long  live  the  Scottish  Guard  !  Long  live 
Louis,  the  guardian  of  the  liberties  of  Liege!" 

Finally  he  managed  to  escape  by  means  of  one  of 
the  syndics,  and  reach  the  Schonwaldt,  or  Bishop's 
Palace,  where  his  ladies  were  staying  under  the  care 
of  the  Bishop's  sister,  the  Abbess  of  a  severe  order, 
who  gave  Quentin  little  chance  to  talk  with  them. 


302  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

The  only  pretty  silly  thing  that  Quentin  did  was  to 
take  a  love-letter  written  by  the  silly  old  Countess 
Hameline  for  one  which  Isabelle  of  Croye  did  not 
write !  Hameline  was  a  regular  old  fool,  though,  the 
book  says,  nice  enough  to  look  at  for  her  age. 

However,  Quentin  went  on  dreaming  that  the  young 
Countess  was  in  love  with  him,  and  he  would  have  been 
quite  mad  enough  to  tell  her  of  it  —  that  is,  if  he  had 
had  the  chance. 

Luckily  for  him,  on  the  fourth  night  he  got  something 
else  to  think  about.  He  was  awakened  by  a  terrible 
noise  in  the  city.  The  gipsy  spy  came  into  his  room 
and  told  him  that  the  people  of  Liege  were  up,  that 
the  bandit  William  de  le  Marck  was  assaulting  the 
city,  and  that  now  was  the  time  to  secure  a  bride  and 
earldom. 

Of  course  Quentin  thought  at  once  of  the  love-letter 
and  of  Isabelle  of  Croye.  He  heard  in  the  streets 
the  shouts  of,  "Liege!  Liege!  Sanglier!  Sanglier!" 
These  were  answered  from  within  the  Schonwaldt  by 
weaker  ones  of  "Our  Lady  for  the  Prince  Bishop," 
—  weaker  because  the  men  inside  were  fewer,  and 
the  words  more  difficult  to  shout  out  loud. 

["Yes,  of  course,"  interrupted  Sir  Toady,  eager  for 
a  modern  instance;  "it  is  easy  enough  to  call  out 
'  Torwood  !  Torwood  ! '  *  Galloway !  Galloway ! '  or 


ON  THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  303 

even  *  Mean  Pig !  Mean  Pig ! '  if  you  are  far  enough  off, 
but  ever  so  much  harder  to  keep  on  shouting,  '  God 
bless  the  Tweedbridge  Presbyterian  Kirk,  its  minister, 
office-bearers,  and  choir ! '  Of  course  they  could  not 
keep  on  shouting  that!" 

"Shut  up,  Toad,"  said  Hugh  John,  severely;  "it  is 
serious,  this  time ! "  Also,  to  steady  the  young  man 
still  further,  I  put  my  hand  on  the  pocket  where  I  carry 
my  purse.  So,  for  the  time  being,  the  fountain  of  folly 
was  dried  up.] 

Yes,  the  Wild  Boar  of  the  Ardennes  was  assaulting 
the  castle.  But  the  Bohemian  had  one  Marthon,  a 
girl  of  his  tribe,  with  the  ladies,  and  she  thought,  or 
pretended  to  think,  that  it  was  the  Lady  Hameline 
whom  Quentin  was  in  love  with. 

["That's  the  worst  of  being  in  love,"  muttered  Sir 
Toady,  philosophically,  to  himself;  "a  fellow  is  always 
making  mistakes  about  which  one  it  is."] 

Well,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  turmoil,  the  Bohemian 
and  Quentin  got  away  from  the  castle  with  the  two 
ladies,  both  well  wrapped  up  in  long  veils.  Of  course 
Quentin  thought  that  the  one  hanging  on  his  arm  was 
the  young  Countess.  But  it  wasn't  —  not  by  miles. 
It  was  old  Hameline,  and  the  other  was  Marthon,  the 
gipsy. 

You  be  sure  that  Quentin  let  go  in  the  crack  of  a 


304  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

whip,  and  took  the  road  back  to  the  castle  to  look 
after  the  genuine  article.  It  was  his  duty,  of  course. 

[So  he  wasn't  a  fool,  as  Toady  says  he  was.  Toady 
ought  to  know  about  fools.  But  he  does  not  even 
know  how  big  a  one  he  is  himself  —  always  to  keep 
croaking  away  like  a  polly  in  a  cage,  when  a  fellow  is 
doing  his  best  to  tell  a  story. 

A  severe  look  on  his  brother's  face  as  he  delivered 
this  reproof,  and  a  hand  still  laid  significantly  on  a  cer- 
tain right-hand  trousers  pocket,  between  them  caused 
Sir  Toady  to  defer  his  reply  to  a  more  convenient 
season.] 

Quentin  found  that  to  get  back  into  the  castle  was  a 
good  deal  more  difficult  than  it  had  been  to  get  out. 
First  of  all,  he  was  compelled  to  swim  the  moat,  get- 
ting out  of  the  way  of  the  drowning  wretches  who  had 
been  thrown  into  it  from  above.  Then  a  lanzknecht, 
or  free-lance,  stood  ready  to  strike  him  down  when  he 
came  to  the  little  postern.  But  Quentin  took  the  mas- 
terful air  of  one  of  the  victors  —  in  which  his  cap  of 
the  Archers  of  the  French  Guard  helped  him.  For, 
you  see,  the  Wild  Boar  of  Ardennes  and  the  Liege 
people  had  made  it  known  that  they  had  among  them 
an  envoy  of  the  French  King. 

"To  the  Western  Tower,  if  you  want  to  be  rich !"  he 
cried ;  "the  Priest's  treasure  is  in  the  Western  Tower !" 


ON  THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  305 

Before  reaching  the  turret  where  the  ladies  had  been 
confined,  Quentin  had  to  drag  several  dead  men  out 
of  his  way.  One  of  these,  however,  objected  that  he 
was  not  dead,  and  offered  to  help  Quentin  if  he  would 
raise  him  to  his  feet.  He  was  more  in  danger,  so 
he  said,  of  being  smothered  like  a  pig  in  his  own 
armour. 

Quentin  saw  that  this  man  might  possibly  help,  so, 
seating  him  on  a  stone,  he  found  that  he  was  no  other 
than  the  Syndic  Pavilion  —  unwounded,  but  much  out 
of  breath. 

"Sit  down  and  get  your  breath  back  again,"  said 
Quentin;  "I  will  be  with  you  instantly." 

"What,  my  lively  young  archer!"  said  Syndic 
Pavilion;  "I  have  found  a  friend  in  this  fearful  night, 
and  I  am  not  going  to  quit  him.  Go  where  you  will  — 
I  follow,  and  if  I  can  manage  to  get  some  tight  lads  of 
the  guild  together,  then  I  may  be  able  to  help  you  in 
my  turn." 

In  his  heart  Quentin  cursed  the  obstruction  of  hav- 
ing the  fat  Syndic  to  lead  about  like  a  bear,  but  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  He  searched  the  first  two  rooms 
of  the  suite,  finding  only  rifled  trunks,  with  here  and 
there  a  dead  man.  At  last  he  came  upon  a  secret 
door,  and,  bursting  it  open,  found  the  Countess  of 
Croye  —  Isabelle  herself.  He  pressed  her  to  his  bosom, 


3o6  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

entreating  her  to  cheer  up  and  help  him  by  doing  her 
part.  For,  you  see,  they  would  have  to  step  lively,  if 
she  was  going  to  be  saved. 

She  asked  Quentin  not  to  abandon  her,  and  of  course 
he  said  he  never  would.  More  than  that,  he  meant  it. 

"A  love  affair,"  said  a  rough,  broken  voice  behind 
them.  "I  see  —  I  see  —  I  am  as  sorry  for  you,  I 
declare,  as  if  you  had  been  my  own  daughter 
Trudchen!" 

"But  you  must  have  more  pity  on  us  —  you  must 
help  protect  us,  Mynheer  Pavilion,"  said  Quentin, 
turning  sharply  upon  him.  "This  young  lady  was  put 
under  my  care  by  the  King  of  France,  and  if  she  comes 
to  any  harm,  your  city  will  lose  the  favour  of  Louis." 

Pavilion  said  that  the  thing  would  be  difficult,  but 
he  would  do  his  best.  He  halooed  lustily  from  the 
window  for  all  the  men  of  the  "curriers"  guild,  and  so 
got  together  two  or  three  of  his  own  followers !  Others 
followed,  till  he  had  quite  a  respectable  gathering. 

Above,  the  bell  was  tolling  for  a  military  council, 
and  Peterkin,  the  Syndic's  lieutenant,  told  his  master 
that  the  gates  were  up  and  guarded.  There  was  some 
noise  that  the  ladies  of  Croye  had  escaped,  which  had 
angered  De  la  Marck  very  much. 

However,  it  was  resolved  that  Isabelle  should  for  the 
time  being  become  Trudchen,  the  Syndic's  daughter. 


ON   THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  307 

And,  wrapped  in  a  long  Flemish  veil,  there  seemed 
some  chance  that  one  might  pass  for  the  other. 

As  they  approached  the  great  hall,  the  shouts,  yells, 
and  brutal  laughter  that  came  from  it  made  Isabelle 
of  Croye  shrink  instinctively  close  to  Quentin. 

She  had,  she  whispered,  a  favour  to  ask  of  him.  He 
said  that  it  was  granted  before  it  was  asked. 

"It  is  that  you  will  plunge  a  dagger  into  my  heart," 
she  said,  "rather  than  let  me  fall  into  the  hands  of  these 
monsters!" 

Quentin  did  not  answer,  but  only  pressed  her  hand. 
Thus  leaning  on  her  young  protector,  the  Countess 
entered  the  dreadful  hall.  The  men  of  the  Wild 
Boar's  army  were  more  like  carousing  devils  than  any- 
thing else,  but  Quentin  and  his  party  had  to  face  them 
as  best  they  could.  Even  Pavilion  put  on  a  bold  face. 

The  Wild  Boar  himself  sat  unhelmeted  at  the  table- 
head.  Over  his  armour  he  wore  a  strong  surcoat, 
made  of  the  dressed  skin  of  a  wild  boar,  the  hoofs 
being  of  solid  silver  and  the  tusks  also  of  the  same  metal. 
When  he  drew  the  boar's  mask  over  his  head,  as  he 
often  did  when  without  his  helmet,  the  effect  was  that 
of  a  grinning,  horrible  monster. 

On  the  banquet-table  all  the  sacred  plate  of  the  Church 
was  mixed  with  leathern  "black-jacks"  and  beer  can- 
nikins. The  Wild  Boar  cared  nothing  for  sacrilege, 


3o8  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

having  been  already  cursed  by  the  Pope  and  put  to  the 
ban  of  the  Empire.  But  a  lanzknecht,  who  had  stolen 
one  of  these  off  the  board,  had  been  "knitted  up"  to 
one  of  the  staunchions  of  the  window,  and  hung  there 
even  now,  in  the  midst  of  the  feast,  before  the  very 
eyes  of  Quentin  and  Isabelle  as  they  entered  the  hall 
with  their  protector. 

De  la  Marck  received  the  Syndic  readily  enough, 
as  one  of  the  civic  magistrates  of  the  city  he  had  con- 
quered. But  he  ordered  Isabelle  to  unveil. 

Pavilion  pleaded  for  her  as  his  daughter,  saying  that 
she  wore  her  veil  on  account  of  a  vow  to  the  Three 
Kings  of  Cologne. 

"I  will  absolve  her  of  it,"  cried  the  Wild  Boar;  "by 
a  stroke  of  a  cleaver  I  will  consecrate  myself  Bishop  of 
Liege,  and  I  trust  that  one  live  bishop  is  worth  three 
dead  kings!" 

Then  De  la  Marck  went  on  to  do  one  of  the  worst 
acts  of  his  bad  and  cruel  career.  He  ordered  the  Prince 
Bishop  to  be  brought  in.  All  the  Burgomaster's  fol- 
lowers kept  close  behind  him,  and  though  some  of  them 
whispered  that  this  could  not  be  Trudchen,  the  girl 
being  much  taller,  none  made  any  sign  to  betray  their 
master.  Quentin  placed  himself  near  the  only  person 
of  whom  De  la  Marck  was  known  to  be  fond.  In  a 
fit  of  passion  the  Wild  Boar  had  killed  the  lad's  mother 


ON   THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  309 

with  a  single  blow,  and  now  what  of  fondness  he  had, 
returned  upon  the  boy,  her  son. 

The  noble  old  Bishop  of  Liege,  Louis  of  Bourbon, 
was  now  brought  in.  He  was  dishevelled,  and  the  robes 
of  his  office  had  been  thrown  over  him  anyhow,  as  if  in 
mockery.  Then  followed  a  scene,  short  and  fearful. 
The  Bishop  now  showed  great  dignity  and  calmness. 
He  was  composed  and  undismayed  even  in  the  prospect 
of  death. 

"Louis  of  Bourbon,"  cried  the  truculent  soldier, — 
or  bandit,  rather,  — "I  sought  your  friendship  —  you 
rejected  mine.  What  would  you  now  give  that  it  had 
been  otherwise?  Nikkei,  be  ready!" 

The  butcher  of  Liege,  who  had  brought  over  his 
trade  to  help  William  de  la  Marck,  seized  his  weapon, 
and  stealing  with  it  behind  De  la  Marck' s  chair,  stood 
with  it  uplifted  in  his  bare  and  sinewy  arms. 

"Look  at  this  man,  Louis  of  Bourbon,"  said  the  Wild 
Boar;  "what  terms  do  you  offer  now  to  escape  this 
hour?" 

The  Bishop  looked,  quietly  and  sadly,  at  the  grisly 
satellite.  Then  he  answered  with  firmness. 

"These  are  the  terms,"  he  said,  "which  I  offer  to 
this  ruffian,  William  de  la  Marck.  He  has  stirred  up 
to  sedition  an  Imperial  city.  He  has  assaulted  and 
taken  the  palace  of  a  Prince  of  the  Holy  German 


3io  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

Empire.  He  has  broken  into  the  sanctuary  of  the 
Lord  —  denied  the  house  of  God  with  blood  and  rapine, 
like  a  sacrilegious  robber  — " 

"Have  you  done?"  cried  the  Wild  Boar,  as  if  gnash- 
ing his  tusks. 

"Such  are  his  crimes;  now  hear  the  terms,"  said  the 
Prince  Bishop.  "Setting  aside  all  personal  offence, 
forgiving  each  particular  injury  to  myself  —  if  he  will 
fling  down  his  leading  staff  —  renounce  his  command 
—  unbind  his  prisoners  —  take  a  palmer's  staff  in  hand 
and  go  barefooted  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem,  we 
will  be  his  intercessors  with  the  Imperial  chamber 
at  Ratisbon  for  his  body,  and  with  our  father  the  Pope 
for  his  miserable  soul." 

In  the  heart  of  the  Wild  Boar  astonishment  gave 
place  to  anger,  then  to  a  blind  rage  like  that  of  the 
charge  of  the  beast  itself.  As  soon  as  the  Bishop 
ceased,  he  looked  to  Nikkei  Blok,  and  raised  his  finger 
without  speaking  a  word. 

The  ruffian  struck,  as  if  he  had  been  doing  his  office 
in  the  common  shambles,  and  the  murdered  Bishop 
sank  without  a  groan  at  the  foot  of  his  own  episcopal 
throne. 

The  folk  of  Liege,  who  had  expected  when  they 
heard  the  bells  ring,  that  there  would  be  a  council  and 
the  proposing  of  terms,  cried  out  against  the  crime  with 


ON   THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  311 

unanimous  horror.  But  the  voice  of  the  Wild  Boar 
was  louder  than  all. 

"How  now,  ye  porkers  of  Liege!"  he  shouted,  "ye 
wallowers  in  the  mud  of  the  Maes  !  —  Do  ye  dare  mate 
yourselves  with  the  Wild  Boar  of  the  Ardennes?  Up, 
ye  boar's  brood ;  let  these  Flemish  hogs  see  your  tusks !" 

Every  one  of  his  followers  instantly  started  up  at 
his  command  and,  drawing  a  broad  dagger,  seized  his 
neighbour  by  the  collar.  But  no  one  struck.  The 
townsfolk  of  Liege  were  too  surprised  to  resist,  and 
perhaps,  even  in  his  carousing,  De  la  Marck  did  not 
want  to  do  more  than  frighten  them. 

But  Quentin  soon  gave  a  new  turn  to  the  affair. 
He  took  by  the  throat  the  young  lad  near  him,  the  son 
of  the  Wild  Boar  —  and,  they  said,  the  only  person  of 
whom  he  was  fond,  and  crying,  "Two  can  play  at  that 
game!"  put  his  dirk  at  the  boy's  throat. 

"Hold!  Hold!  It  was  but  a  jest!"  cried  De  la 
Marck.  "But  who  are  you  who  thus  take  pledges  of 
us  in  our  very  lair?" 

"I  am  the  King  of  France's  archer,  sent  to  watch 
your  proceedings,"  said  Quentin,  "and  I  warn  you 
that,  if  you  behave  not  differently,  then  good-by  to 
any  hope  of  help  from  my  master  against  Charles  of 
Burgundy." 

"France   and   Liege!    France   and   Liege!"   cried 


3i2  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

the  burghers,  each  citizen  standing  up  alongside  his 
companion,  the  bandit  who  had  so  lately  had  him  by 
the  throat,  and  looking  a  little  wonderingly,  hardly  yet 
knowing  whether  to  treat  each  other  as  friends  or  foes. 

But  the  thought  of  the  coming  vengeance  of  Bur- 
gundy, and  of  all  that  depended  on  what  the  King  of 
France  did  in  the  matter,  made  even  the  Wild  Boar's 
men  waver.  The  leader  would  dearly  have  liked  to 
finish  Quentin  on  the  spot,  as  he  had  already  slain  the 
Bishop.  But  he  saw  that  he  would  not  be  supported 
even  by  his  own  followers. 

Therefore  he  asked  Quentin  to  remain  to  partake 
of  the  feast  in  the  Bishop's  castle,  ordering  the  serving- 
men  at  the  same  time  to  take  away  "that  carrion"  — 
which  had  been  the  means  of  introducing  so  much  ill 
feeling  among  allies. 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  pushed  the  headless  body  of  the 
Prince  Bishop  with  his  foot. 

Quentin  thanked  William  de  la  Marck,  but  said  that 
he  must  remain  with  the  Burgomaster,  to  whom  he  had 
been  accredited.  Finally  they  got  away,  but  as  Isa- 
belle  was  nearly  fainting,  and  speed  was  the  great 
object,  Quentin  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  and  Isabelle, 
throwing  one  arm  about  his  neck,  forgot  everything 
except  the  desire  of  escaping  from  that  horrid  den. 

It  was  Trudchen,  the  pretty  daughter  of  Pavilion, 


ON   THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  313 

who  devised  the  means  of  escape,  and  provided  her 
own  "bachelor"  to  help  —  which  is  to  say,  her  sweet- 
heart. But  the  Syndic's  wife,  Mother  Mabel,  being 
by  nature  jealous,  would  not  see  either  the  Countess  or 
Quentin,  and  it  became  necessary  to  leave  Liege  at  once. 

Quentin,  suitably  arrayed,  went  to  find  Isabelle,  all 
ready  in  the  dress  of  a  well-to-do  Flemish  peasant  girl. 
Meanwhile  Trudchen  had  sent  word  to  her  "bachelor" 
to  meet  the  pair  at  the  eastern  gate  of  the  city.  His 
name  was  Hans  Glover,  and  for  recompense  Trudchen 
only  asked  that  the  Countess  should  say  nothing  about 
Hans  to  her  father. 

"He  is  never  to  see  my  face  again  if  he  cannot  guide 
you  safe  to  the  frontier,"  said  Trudchen,  "and  the 
world  must  be  changed  indeed  if  two  maids  and  their 
devoted  bachelors  cannot  succeed  in  a  disguise  and  an 
escape !" 

Quentin  was  now  attired  like  a  "boor"  of  the  better 
class,  and  there  was  Trudchen's  bachelor  duly  at  the 
gate,  a  hearty,  healthy,  smiling  youth  of  Flanders, 
good-humoured  and  kindly,  but  (thought  Quentin) 
hardly  worthy  of  pretty  Trudchen ! 

"Take  us  to  the  borders  of  Brabant !"  said  Isabelle 
of  Croye.  "I  go  to  a  prison  in  my  own  native  country. 
I  know  it.  The  Duke  will  be  very  angry,  but  I  shall 
take  care  that  you  do  not  share  his  anger." 


3i4  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

"Think  only  of  yourself,"  said  Quentin;  " my  affairs 
matter  little." 

At  two  of  the  afternoon,  their  guide,  pale  with  fear, 
brought  them  word  that  they  were  pursued  by  a  party 
of  De  la  Marck's  Black  Riders  —  as  bad  and  as  cruel 
men  as  the  world  contained. 

The  three  made  for  the  shelter  of  a  wood.  But  it 
was  certain  that  in  the  end  they  must  have  been  ridden 
down,  had  not  a  body  of  knights  and  men-at-arms 
issued  out  at  the  moment  as  if  to  cut  them  off. 

"They  must  be  Burgundians,"  said  Isabelle;  "they 
have  bright  armour!  Yes,'  I  see,  it  is  the  banner  of 
the  Count  of  Crevecceur,  a  noble  Burgundian.  To 
him  I  will  surrender  myself." 

Quentin  Durward  sighed.  His  bright  dreams  of 
carrying  the  Countess  to  Scotland  were  over  in  a  minute. 
Though  what  he  would  have  done  with  her  when  he  got 
her  there,  with  Glen  Houlakin  a  wilderness  and  he  as 
poor  as  a  rat,  Quentin  could  not  have  told  himself. 
Still,  his  knight-erranting  had  been  as  pleasant  as  it 
had  been  dangerous.  But  now  that  it  was  over,  he 
did  not  much  care  (so  he  told  himself)  what  happened 
to  Quentin  Durward ! 

The  Black  Riders  tried  to  dispute  the  matter,  but 
a  single  charge  of  the  Burgundian  ended  the  affair 
in  five  minutes.  Crying  his  war-cry  and  followed  by 


ON   THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  315 

his  men-at-arms,  he  galloped  rapidly  forward  to  charge 
the  Swartz-reiters.  They  were  tumbled  every  way, 
having  no  such  discipline  and  little  martial  spirit 
among  them. 

Crevecceur  told  Isabelle  that  she  had  used  her  wings 
of  late  to  such  wild  purpose,  that  she  must  be  content 
to  fold  them  for  a  little.  However,  he  would  take  her 
himself  to  Peronne,  where  the  Duke  was.  She  might, 
he  said,  chance  to  stand  in  need  of  an  intercessor. 

Honest  Hans  Glover  was  dismissed  with  a  string  of 
pearls  as  a  remembrance.  There  was  no  harm  in  him, 
said  her  new  captor.  But  when  Crevecceur  looked  at 
Quentin,  it  was  another  matter. 

The  Countess  Isabelle  asked  that  Crevecceur  would 
be  pleased  to  be  favourable  to  "this  young  gentleman." 

"Umph!"  said  Crevecceur,  looking  at  Quentin  as 
he  had  at  Hans  Glover,  but  not  with  the  same  satis- 
factory result;  "ay,  but  this  is  «,  blade  of  another 
temper.  And  pray  what  has  this  very  young  gentleman 
done  to  deserve  your  intercession?" 

"He  has  saved  my  life  and  honour!"  said  the 
Countess. 

The  Count  asked  the  youth  to  ride  with  him  to  the 
front  of  the  party,  as  soon  as  Quentin  had  declared 
that  he  belonged  to  the  body-guard  of  the  King  of 
France.  He  had,  he  said,  "been  sent  to  place  the 


316  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

ladies  under  the  protection  of  the  late  Bishop  of 
Liege!" 

"The  late  Bishop !"  cried  Crevecceur;  "of  what  did 
he  die?" 

Then  Quentin  told  the  story  of  the  assault  and  capture 
of  the  palace,  and  of  the  bloody  murder  of  the  Prince 
Bishop.  The  Count  would  hear  nothing  of  Quentin's 
claims.  He  must  instantly  come  on  with  him  to  the 
castle  of  his  master  at  Peronne,  to  stand  the  judgment 
of  Charles  of  Burgundy.  And  as  for  Isabelle  of  Croye, 
he  placed  her  in  the  Cistercian  convent  of  Charleroi, 
where  the  Lady  Abbess  was  a  near  relative  of  his  own 
and  also  of  Isabelle's  family. 

When  they  got  to  Peronne,  a  surprise  was  waiting  for 
them. 

The  King  of  France  had  ridden  into  the  town,  and 
put  himself  within  the  power  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
for  the  purpose  of  arranging  all  disputes,  as  he  said, 
face  to  face ! 

"This  time  the  Fox  has  fallen  into  his  own  snare!" 
thought  Crevecceur,  when  he  heard  of  it.  "Balue 
said  when  I  was  at  Plessy  that  he  could  so  work  upon 
the  superstitions  of  his  master  as  to  give  the  Duke  the 
chance  of  arranging  peace  on  his  own  terms.  But 
I  never  thought  Louis  would  have  swallowed  the  bait 
so  like  a  gudgeon!" 

******* 


ON   THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  317 

"And  that,"  said  Hugh  John,  "is  the  end  of  one  part 
and  the  beginning  of  the  next.  Another  time  I  will 
tell  you  the  rest  as  quickly  as  I  can." 

And  accordingly,  to  the  secret  pleasure  of  the  young 
man,  I  took  two  sovereigns  out  of  my  purse  and  pre- 
sented them  as  a  guerdon  to  the  teller  of  tales. 

"I  don't  think  I  should  have  two,"  he  said  a  little 
wistfully;  "better  wait  till  the  end,  like  Sweetheart!" 

So,  unwilling  to  check  self-sacrifice,  I  allowed  him  to 
give  back  one  of  the  gold  pieces,  and  to  bestow  the  other 
with  a  certain  shamefaced  pride  in  his  purse. 

Sir  Toady  regarded  his  brother  with  undisguised 
contempt.  He  would  not  give  back  money  that  had 
been  given  him.  Just  think  what  the  fellows  would 
say  at  the  Coll.!  What  heaps  of  "feeds"  could  be 
got  for  that  amount !  Altogether  it  was  too  shameful 
to  be  dwelt  upon. 

"That  was  a  pretty  bad  business — about  the  Bishop," 
said  Elphie,  who  was  an  Orangeman;  "not  that  I 
hold  with  bishops  myself  —  " 

"What!  You  would  not  preserve  even  bishops!" 
said  the  head  keeper,  with  a  quaint  look  at  the  poacher. 

Elphie  scorned  the  insinuation. 

"Nobody  that  is  a  man  would  do  such  a  thing  as 
that  to  an  old  man,"  he  said;  "what  think  you,  Neigh- 
bour Donnan?" 


3i8  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

But  the  Man  of  the  Steel  sat  silent,  a  frown  upon  his 
brow.  I  asked  him  what  was  the  matter. 

"It's  that  everlasting  misliking  of  butchers,"  he  said ; 
"the  man  who  wrote  that  is  always  down  on  us,  but 
I'll  wager  he  liked  butcher's  meat  as  well  as  anybody !" 

"Why,  what  has  Sir  Walter  done?"  I  asked,  in 
surprise. 

"He  made  the  'Butchers'  the  only  guild  in  the 
town  which  joined  with  that  rascal  Marck!  And  it 
was  their  Dean  of  Guild,  Nikkei  Blok,  who  chopped 
off  the  poor  old  priest's  head.  If  I  had  that  Nikkei, 
I  would  learn  him  that  he  had  to  settle  matters  with 
Michael  Donnan,  for  bringing  discredit  upon  the  craft." 

I  tried  to  soothe  the  wrathful  butcher  of  Edam,  but 
he  refused  all  consolation. 

"Pretty  hearing  this  for  Nipper,  who  is  wild  to  list 
even  as  it  is,  if  he  only  dared.  But  he  darsent !  If 
he  did  —  why,  one  soldier  of  the  King's  would  have 
a  long  spell  of  hospital,  the  first  time  I  caught  him  out ! " 

I  pointed  out,  however,  that  the  moral  did  not  seem 
to  have  struck  the  young  man  very  deeply.  From  the 
safe  watch-turret  of  a  tree-crotch,  Sweetheart  was 
looking  down  upon  a  fierce  assault  which  was  being 
delivered  upon  the  Feudal  Tower.  Arrows  began 
to  rain  where  we  stood,  and  really  it  was  no  safe  place 
for  peaceable  men.  I  caught  the  peculiar  hist  of 


ON   THE   KING'S   BUSINESS  319 

catapult  ammunition,  among  ourselves  a  forbidden 
weapon  in  civil  or  uncivil  strife  —  only  to  be  used 
against  the  malignant  attacks  of  an  outside  foe. 

We  grown-ups  turned  our  backs  upon  the  stricken 
field,  and  as  we  looked  back  at  the  gate,  we  saw  Nipper 
Donnan,  a  huge  rhubarb-leaf  cleaver  in  his  hand, 
beheading  a  comic  bishop  in  the  person  of  Sir  Toady 
Lion,  while  Hugh  John,  his  head  turned  away  from 
the  ribaldry,  was  secretly  worshipping  at  Mammon's 
shrine.  In  other  words,  he  was  taking  a  sly  peep  at 
the  gold  piece  lying  snugly  at  the  bottom  of  his  purse. 

That  night,  at  Sweetheart's  instigation,  I  went  to  his 
room  at  the  churchyard  hour,  when  all  the  house  was 
asleep,  and  placed  the  second  beside  it  —  so  that  in 
the  morning  I  should  hear  the  whoop  of  delight,  and 
a  voice  outside  the  door  of  my  morning  study  declaring 
that  Master  Hugh  John  was  one  golden  sovereign  the 
nearer  his  heart's  desire  —  an  "Aitchison  Twenty- 
Five!" 

For  Hugh  John  liked  to  view  the  world  afar  off 
through  the  highest  power  of  field-glass  obtainable, 
then  to  gird  his  loins  and  go  forth  to  seek  for  the  place 
that  had  pleased  him.  At  home  he  was  called  "The 
Lost  Ten  Tribes,"  because  of  this  wandering  Ishmael- 
itish  habit  —  said  to  have  been  contracted  from  a  near 
relative  to  whom  all  the  children's  vices  are  invariably 


320  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

set  down.    Their  virtues,  few  and  doubtful,  were  all 
their  own. 


HUGH  JOHN'S  LAST  TALE  FROM   "QUENTIN 
DURWARD" 

THE  KING'S  DANGER 

THE  nearer  hope  of  the  "Aitchison"  perhaps 
quickened  Hugh  John's  imagination.  For  he  was 
exceedingly  ready  with  his  yarn  next  evening  down 
at  the  Feudal  Tower.  There  was  a  full  house.  And 
Sir  Toady,  anxious  to  make  his  peace  with  the  keeper, 
had  presented  him  with  an  old  but  very  sharp  knife  for 
the  purpose  of  cutting  his  tobacco,  before  rolling  it  in 
his  hand.  John  Chesnay  was  evidently  touched  by 
the  attention,  but  all  he  said  was,  "Only  mind  to  keep 
away  from  the  pheasant  coops !" 

Evidently  there  was  a  hiatus ;  there  were  then  other 
places,  not  pheasant  coops,  to  which  Sir  Toady  was  to 
be  allowed  access.  Or,  at  least,  his  misdeeds  were  to 
be  winked  at  more  indulgently  than  in  the  past. 

Perhaps  a  private  inspection  of  Sir  Toady's  collection 
of  the  eggs  of  local  birds  of  prey,  which  I  had  allowed 
the  keeper  a  glimpse  of,  had  modified  his  opinion  of 


THE   KING'S   DANGER  321 

the  results  of  Sir  Toady's  occasional  presence  in  his 
woods. 

"Faint  as  a  figure  seen  at  early  dawn, 
Down  at  the  far  end  of  an  avenue, 
Going  he  knew  not  whither  —  " 

That  was  generally  how  Keeper  Chesnay  saw  our 
"  Admiral  Tuppens. "  But  now  under  the  new  and 
tacit  treaty  he  agreed  to  turn  his  eyes  discreetly  the 
other  way.  Personally,  I  offered  no  pledge  of  good 
conduct.  I  only  said  that  he  must  just  hope  for  the 
best. 

As  for  Hugh  John,  he  was  entirely  non-suspect. 
He  might  come  and  go  at  will.  For  his  bent  was  the 
open  face  of  the  scaur,  the  sky-line  ridge,  the  wilderness 
of  heather  and  rock,  which  with  the  intervention  of  a 
river-valley  or  two  ran  clear  sixty  miles  to  the  Solway. 

It  was  not  at  the  council  (continued  Hugh  John), 
but  in  the  gayest  time  of  feasting,  that  the  storm 
broke  on  Peronne.  Louis  and  Duke  Charles  were  at 
the  banqueting-table.  Two  hunters,  both  nobles  of 
Burgundy,  entered  with  faces  gloomy  and  downcast. 
They  had  met  the  Count  of  Crevecceur,  just  returned 
from  Brabant.  The  Duke  was  impatient  to  see  him, 
and  demanded  what  news  he  had  brought.  But  natu- 
rally neither  of  the  two  wanted  particularly  to  be  the 


322  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

bearer  of  bad  news,  so  they  said  nothing  till  Crevecceur 
came  in  himself. 

The  guests  all  knew  that  something  serious  was  in 
the  air,  and  Crevecoeur  was  saluted  by  his  master  with 
the  information  that  he  must  speak  at  once,  since  the 
very  rumour  of  his  coming  had  chased  mirth  from  the 
table. 

"I  suppose,"  added  the  Duke,  "from  your  melan- 
choly face  the  burghers  of  Liege  are  again  in  revolt?" 

"They  are,  my  Lord  !"  said  Crevecoeur,  very  gravely. 

"You  could  not  have  brought  the  news  at  a  better 
moment,"  said  the  Duke;  "for  here  is  our  own  suz- 
erain to  teach  us  how  to  deal  with  traitors.  But  you 
have  more  news  in  your  packet !  Out  with  it,  man,  and 
then  explain  why  you  went  not  forward  yourself  to 
assist  the  Bishop." 

"No  aid  of  mine,  my  Lord,  could  have  helped  the 
good  Bishop  ! "  said  Crevecceur.  "William de  la  Marck, 
uniting  with  the  rebel  Liegeois,  has  taken  the  castle 
of  Schonwaldt  and  murdered  him  in  his  own  hall!" 

"  Murdered  him!"  said  the  Duke,  in  a  low  and  terrible 
voice;  "you  have  been  imposed  upon,  Crevecceur  — 
some  wild  report  —  " 

"I  have  it  from  an  archer  of  the  King  of  France's 
Scottish  Guard,  who  was  in  the  hall  when  the  Bishop 
was  slaughtered  by  De  la  Marck's  orders." 


THE   KING'S   DANGER  323 

"And  who  was  doubtless  aiding  and  abetting  in  the 
sacrilege,"  exclaimed  the  Duke.  "Bar  the  doors  of  the 
hall,  gentlemen  —  secure  the  windows  —  let  no  stranger 
stir  from  his  seat.  Gentlemen  of  my  chamber,  draw 
your  swords!" 

And  turning  toward  the  King  of  France,  he  put  one 
hand  to  his  sword-hilt  as  if  to  draw  it  also  and  fall 
on  him.  But  Louis  kept  cool,  showing  no  fear,  and 
only  saying,  "These  news,  fair  cousin,  have  staggered 
your  reason." 

"No,"  said  the  Duke,  addressing  the  King,  "they 
have  only  awakened  a  just  resentment.  I  will  hold 
myself  in  no  longer.  Murderer  of  thy  brother !  Rebel 
against  thy  father !  Treacherous  ally !  Tyrant  over  thy 
subjects !  Perjured  king  and  dishonoured  gentleman, 
thou  art  in  my  power,  and  I  thank  God  for  it ! " 

"Thank  rather  my  folly,"  said  the  King;  "when  we 
met  on  equal  terms  at  Montl'hery,  you  wished  yourself 
farther  from  me  than  you  are  now." 

The  Duke  was  still  ready  to  strike,  but  the  King 
never  moved  a  muscle.  So  far  the  King  had  had 
decidedly  the  best  of  it.  The  Duke  could  not  strike 
a  man  who  sat  still,  smiling  quietly  and  offering  no 
resistance. 

But  everywhere  there  was  confusion.  Though 
Dunois  was  just  out  of  prison  (and  that  no  ordinary 


324  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

prison),  his  voice  was  the  first  to  be  heard.  He  re- 
minded the  Duke  that  he  was  a  vassal  of  France, 
and  that  they,  his  guests,  were  Frenchmen.  If  any- 
thing were  attempted  against  the  King,  the  gentlemen 
of  France  would  feast  as  high  on  the  best  blood  of 
Burgundy  as  they  had  done  on  its  wine!" 

Lord  Crawford,  too,  though  the  oldest  there,  thrust 
himself  forward,  all  ready  for  the  fray,  crying,  "I  have 
fought  for  his  sire  and  his  grandsire,  and  by  Saint 
Andrew,  be  the  matter  what  it  will,  I  shall  not  fail  him 
at  this  pinch." 

The  Duke  seemed  about  to  give  the  signal  for  a  com- 
bined onset,  which  could  only  have  ended  in  the  mas- 
sacre of  the  French,  who  were  fewer  in  numbers. 
But  Crevecceur  rushed  between  the  King  and  the 
Duke  and  cried  in  a  voice  like  a  trumpet:  "My  Lord, 
this  is  your  hall.  Here  is  your  sovereign  lord.  He  is 
your  guest.  So  are  these  French  gentlemen.  He 
came  here  under  your  own  safeguard.  For  the  sake 
of  your  house's  honour,  do  not  revenge  one  horrid 
murder  by  another  yet  more  vile." 

"Out  of  my  way!"  cried  the  Duke;  "the  wrath  of 
kings  is  to  be  dreaded  like  that  of  heaven!" 

"Only  when,  like  that  of  heaven,  it  is  just  I"  cried 
the  undaunted  Crevecceur,  who  could  face  his  own 
sovereign  as  well  as  the  King  of  France;  "and  I  advise 


THE   KING'S   DANGER  325 

you,  gentlemen  of  France,  since  all  would  be  useless, 
to  put  up  your  swords  and  take  things  quietly." 

The  King  seconded  him  in  this,  and  bade  Orleans, 
Dunois,  Crawford,  and  the  rest  to  yield  up  their  swords 
upon  their  oaths  of  allegiance. 

The  Duke  of  Burgundy  hung  a  moment  in  the  wind, 
unwilling  to  give  up  his  vengeance.  Then  he  said  that 
all  Europe  should  acknowledge  his  justice.  He  bade 
the  French  yield  up  their  swords,  all  saving  the  King. 

But  Dunois  and  Crawford  refused,  till  they  were  at 
least  assured  of  the  safety  of  the  King.  Again  Louis 
commanded  them,  telling  them  that  the  noble  Bur- 
gundians  who  accepted  such  pledges  would  be  more 
able  than  they  to  protect  him. 

Still  the  French  hesitated,  till  at  last,  upon  the  King's 
direct  command,  Crawford  threw  his  sword  to  Creve- 
coeur,  crying,  "Take  it,  and  the  devil  give  you  joy 
of  it !  It  is  no  dishonour  to  me.  We  had  no  fair 
play!" 

Then  the  Duke,  in  a  voice  broken  by  passion,  com- 
manded the  French  gentlemen  to  retain  their  swords, 
but  only  on  condition  of  not  using  them.  He  ordered 
the  King  to  Earl  Herbert's  Tower,  to  be  kept  a  prisoner 
there  till  matters  were  cleared  up  between  them  and 
Louis  proved  to  have  no  part  in  the  slaughter  of  the 
Prince  Bishop  of  Liege. 


326  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

The  King  was  allowed  to  choose  six  gentlemen  of  his 
train  to  wait  upon  him.  The  Scottish  Guard  were 
to  be  quartered  elsewhere.  The  Black  Walloons  were 
to  surround  the  castle,  patrols  of  horse  and  foot  were  to 
be  established,  and  all  sentinels  were  to  be  trebled. 

He  ended  by  ordering  his  men  to  look  to  the  person 
of  Louis  as  they  valued  their  lives. 

The  choice  of  the  King's  companions  was  a  curious 
one.  In  fact,  everybody  talked  about  it.  Instead  of 
choosing  Dunois  and  his  great  nobles  like  Orleans, 
he  asked  for  the  attendance  of  Oliver  Dain,  his  barber, 
of  Tristan  1'Hermite  and  two  of  his  people,  of  Le 
Balafre,  and  of  his  astrologer  Martius  Galeotti. 

Forty  serving-men,  carrying  alternately  naked  swords 
and  blazing  torches,  served  as  Louis's  guard  from  the 
hall  of  Peronne  to  his  prison.  As  he  went  he  saw  the 
slain  bodies  of  some  of  his  Scottish  Guard  who  had 
disputed  the  order  given  to  them  to  quit  their  post  near 
the  King's  apartments.  The  Duke's  Walloons  had 
fallen  upon  them,  and  before  the  officers  could  interfere 
several  lives  had  been  lost.  The  King  paused  in  sorrow 
for  his  faithful  Scots,  but  Le  Balafre,  just  behind, 
comforted  him  with  the  thought  that  it  was  numbers 
that  had  carried  the  day.  Even  he  himself,  he  said, 
did  not  care  to  fight  more  than  two  men  at  once  — 
that  is,  except  on  special  duty,  when  there  was  no  time 
for  counting  heads. 


LOUIS    ESCORTED    TO    PRISON    BY    TORCHLIGHT 


THE   KING'S   DANGER  327 

Once  in  the  King's  apartments,  events  marched 
toward  another  tragedy.  He  was  to  be  guarded  in 
the  tower  where  his  predecessor,  Charles  the  Simple, 
had  been  murdered.  At  first  all  seemed  dreary  enough, 
but  after  passing  the  great  hall,  and  disturbing  the 
bats  and  owls  which  lodged  there,  they  came  to  the 
chamber,  in  which  arras  had  been  hastily  tacked  up, 
a  fire  lighted  in  the  rusty  grate,  and  pallets  laid  down 
for  the  gentlemen  who  were  to  pass  the  night  there. 

But  Louis  had  in  his  mind  before  all  other  things  — 
revenge.  Two  men  had  brought  him  to  Peronne  by 
their  advice  —  Cardinal  Balue  and  Galeotti,  the  astrol- 
oger. He  proposed  that  Galeotti  should  be  hanged 
on  the  spot,  and  it  was  with  this  purpose  that  he  had 
chosen  Tristan  and  his  two  hangmen  as  his  com- 
panions for  the  night. 

However,  Galeotti  frightened  the  King  by  prophesy- 
ing that  his  own  death  should  happen  within  twenty- 
four  hours  of  the  King's.  You  would  not  have  thought 
that  a  thing  like  that  would  have  frightened  a  man 
like  Louis,  who  believed  that  chivalry  and  the  old  way 
of  ruling  were  all  bosh.  But  it  did. 

The  block  and  tackle  was  reared  outside,  and  Tristan 
and  his  two  hangmen  there  told  off  to  do  the  astrologer's 
business.  But  when  he  heard  about  his  death,  Louis 
was  so  anxious  for  Galeotti 's  safety,  that  he  kept  hold 


328  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

of  his  robe  till  he  had  passed  under  the  cord  and  block, 
saying  all  the  while,  "Go  in  peace!  Go  in  peace!" 

The  Duke  Charles  was  just  as  disturbed  that  night 
—  indeed,  during  all  the  next  day  and  night.  His  best 
counsellors  preached  moderation.  But  it  was  hardly 
in  the  nature  of  Charles  the  Rash  to  practise  it. 

Then  Philip  de  Comines,  the  great  historian  of  Bur- 
gundy and  a  very  wise  man,  was  sent  to  sound  Louis 
on  what  conditions  he  was  prepared  to  discuss  as  the 
price  of  getting  free.  These  included  the  giving  up  of 
all  feudal  claims  on  Burgundy  —  the  Duke  to  become 
a  reigning  king,  the  yielding  of  the  right  to  coin  money, 
the  marriage  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  to  Isabelle  of 
Croye  instead  of  to  the  King's  daughter  —  these  were 
some  of  the  hard  terms  which,  on  the  advice  of  Cam- 
pobasso,  Burgundy  had  resolved  to  demand  from 
France. 

There  was,  in  addition,  to  be  a  public  trial  of  the 
accusations  made  against  Louis,  of  having  helped  or 
counselled  the  murder  of  the  Prince  Bishop.  Craw- 
ford and  others  were  in  the  greatest  fear  lest  Quentin 
should  blame  the  King  for  having  sent  him  off  with 
a  traitor  for  a  guide.  One  other  person  knew  of  the 
Bohemian  Hayrabbin  —  Isabelle  of  Croye.  So,  using 
his  opportunity,  Quentin  asked  for  an  interview  with 
her  — perhaps  for  the  purpose  of  warning  her  to  be 


THE   KING'S   DANGER  329 

silent  about  the  King  —  perhaps  for  the  sake  of  the 
kiss  with  which  the  interview  closed. 

Crawford  and  Crevecceur  had  been  watching. 
Crawford  laughed,  but  Crevecceur  was  very  angry. 
He  threatened  Quentin  with  punishment  when  all 
these  matters  of  state  should  be  wound  up. 

But  Lord  Crawford  good-humouredly  bade  him 
"Rein  up!"  and  ordered  Quentin  on  his  side  to  be 
silent  and  go  to  his  own  quarters. 

"And  hark  you,  Count  of  Crevecceur,"  said  Craw- 
ford, after  Quentin  had  gone  out  of  sight,  "this  young 
Durward  is  as  good  a  gentleman  as  the  King  —  only, 
as  the  Spanish  proverb  says,  not  so  rich." 

"Well,"  said  Crevecceur,  "I  meant  no  disrespect  to 
yourself  or  Scotland,  but  I  shall  take  good  care  that 
these  two  do  not  meet  again." 

"Fire  and  tow!"  said  the  old  lord,  still  laughing. 
"They  may  beat  you  for  all  that.  Mortal  creatures 
have  legs,  and  youth  and  love  to  set  them  in  motion. 
They  will  meet  in  spite  of  you.  Yon  kiss,  Crevecceur, 
came  tenderly  off  —  methinks  it  was  ominous!" 

The  Duke  himself  invited  the  King  to  a  High  Coun- 
cil, and  during  the  interview  Louis  was  as  calm  as  in 
his  own  palace;  Charles  of  Burgundy  hoarse  with  a 
passion  he  could  hardly  contain. 


330  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

The  Council  was  marshalled  by  Toison  d'Or,  the 
herald  of  Burgundy.  The  King  of  France  was  seated 
in  the  higher  chair,  but  although  he  was  the  sovereign 
and  president,  he  might  just  as  well  have  been  in  the 
dock  as  the  accused. 

Isabelle  of  Croye  was  the  first  witness  called.  She 
stood  motionless  while  the  Duke  reproached  her  with 
having  brought  two  great  kingdoms  to  the  brink  of 
war.  She  had  meant  to  throw  herself  before  Charles 
and  implore  him  to  take  all  her  estates  and  permit 
her  to  retire  to  a  convent.  But  before  these  princes 
and  in  face  of  such  a  storm  of  anger  she  could  only 
stand  dumb  and  stricken. 

But  the  Countess  of  Crevecceur,  who  came  with  her, 
made  no  bones  about  speaking  her  mind  to  the  Duke, 
and  that  pretty  firmly. 

"My  fair  cousin,"  she  said,  "is  under  my  protection. 
I  know  better  than  your  Grace  how  women  should  be 
treated,  and  we  will  leave  this  presence  instantly,  un- 
less you  use  a  tone  more  suitable  to  our  rank  and  sex." 

The  Duke  burst  out  laughing.  "Crevecceur,"  he 
said,  "your  tameness  at  home  has  made  a  lordly  dame 
of  your  Countess.  I  would  do  no  harm  to  the  girl 
yonder.  I  rather  design  much  honour  for  her.  Let 
her  sit  down." 

With  that  he  began  to  question  the  girl. 


THE  KING'S   DANGER  331 

Isabelle  admitted  that  to  escape  the  marriage  pro- 
posed for  her  by  the  Duke,  she  and  her  aunt  had  fled 
to  France.  But  the  King  had  certainly  not  invited 
her  thither,  or  even  treated  her  very  kindly  when  there. 
He  had  placed  them  in  privacy,  but  had  taken  the 
earliest  chance  of  sending  them  on  to  Liege  to  the  care 
of  the  Bishop.  Here  the  King  waved  his  hands  round 
the  circle.  He  cared  nothing  for  the  reproaches  of 
a  girl  —  much  for  the  verdict  of  the  Council  now 
assembled.  Finally  Isabelle  asked  that  her  lands 
and  castles  might  be  forfeited  and  she  herself  allowed 
to  retire  to  a  convent.  This  made  the  Duke  yet  more 
angry,  for  now,  to  humiliate  Louis,  he  meant  to  marry 
her  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  above  all  he  could 
not  bear  his  will  to  be  thwarted. 

But  the  Countess  of  Crevecceur  led  her  away,  and 
Quentin  was  called  on  to  bear  witness  in  her  place. 
The  Duke  tried  his  hardest  to  make  him  implicate 
the  King  of  France.  But  Quentin,  answering  simply 
that  he  had  obeyed  his  instructions  (which  he  pro- 
duced in  writing),  told  how  he  had  been  treacherously 
led  on  by  the  Bohemian,  how  he  had  listened  in  the 
willow,  and  so  taken  the  left  bank  of  the  Maes  from 
Namur,  as  being  both  the  safer  and  the  nearer  road  to 
Liege.  But  Quentin  denied  that  the  King  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  such  treachery. 


332  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

"Even  if  such  infamous  fellows  as  the  Bohemian 
or  the  lanzknecht  of  William  de  la  Marck  had  said 
so,  which  they  did  not,  I  should  not  have  believed 
them,  having  the  King's  word  against  theirs!" 

At  this  reply  from  Quentin  Louis  drew  a  long  breath, 
while  the  Duke  looked  gloomy.  He  saw  the  game  was 
going  against  him. 

"You  are  a  faithful  messenger,"  said  Duke  Charles, 
"but  I  will  wager  that  but  for  what  happened  after, 
you  would  have  disappointed  his  expectations  in  a  way 
you  would  have  smarted  for." 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  Quentin.  "King  Louis 
sent  me  to  guard  these  ladies  to  Liege.  I  did  it  as 
best  I  could,  both  on  the  journey  and  during  the 
scenes  which  followed  the  taking  of  the  Schonwaldt. 
I  understood  the  instructions  of  the  King  to  be  hon- 
ourable, and  I  executed  them  honourably.  Had  they 
been  dishonourable,  they  would  not  have  suited  one 
of  my  name  or  nation!" 

"Fier  comme  un  Ecossais!"  said  Charles,  who, 
though  disappointed,  could  not  help  being  struck  by 
the  boldness  of  the  young  Scot,  and  even,  in  a  way, 
admiring  it.  Then  he  questioned  Quentin  as  to  his  be- 
haviour at  Liege,  asserting  that  he  acted  as  if  he  were 
an  envoy  of  the  French  King,  delivered  speeches,  and 
even  took  it  upon  him  to  speak  in  the  name  of  France. 


THE   KING'S   DANGER  333 

But  Quentin  showed  how  he  had  his  charge  to  defend, 
and  said  that  he  snatched  at  any  weapon  just  as  one 
may  grasp  a  shield  with  another  man's  bearings  in 
a  moment  of  great  peril. 

Crevecceur  could  contain  himself  no  longer,  but 
burst  out  that  his  young  companion  had  acted  with 
spirit  and  good  sense ! 

At  this  moment  a  herald  from  the  city  of  Liege  was 
announced.  "A  herald  from  nailers  and  weavers!" 
cried  the  Duke,  "but  admit  him  at  once.  Perhaps 
he  will  tell  us  more  than  this  young  Archer  of  the 
Guard  seems  inclined  to  do." 

The  herald,  more  fantastically  dressed  than  usual, 
carried  himself  with  a  mixture  of  boldness  and  fear,  as 
if  he  knew  that  only  the  utmost  audacity  would  carry 
him  through  the  task  he  had  undertaken. 

He  declared  that  he  was  "Rouge  Sanglier,  ofncer-at- 
arms  to  William  de  la  Marck,  by  the  grace  of  God  and 
the  free  election  of  the  chapter,  Prince  Bishop  of  Liege." 

"Ha!"  said  Charles,  and  subduing  his  anger  bade 
him  go  on. 

"And  in  right  of  his  wife,  the  Lady  Countess  Hameline 
of  Croye,  Count  of  Croye  and  Lord  of  Bracquemont." 

Charles  seemed  stricken  dumb  by  such  boldness  in 
his  presence.  The  envoy  concluded  with  a  request 
as  modest  as  the  prologue. 


334  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"I  require  you,  Duke  Charles,  to  desist  from  all 
interference  with  the  city  of  Liege,  to  restore  its  banners, 
to  rebuild  its  walls,  and  to  acknowledge  my  master, 
William  de  la  Marck,  as  Prince  Bishop,  to  give  up  to 
him  the  castles  of  Bracquemont  and  the  earldom  of 
Croye!" 

The  Duke  had  allowed  the  herald  to  continue,  each 
time  marking  him  up  for  hotter  revenge  when  he 
finished.  The  final  straw  was  when  William  de  la 
Marck  threatened  Duke  Charles  with  instant  war  if  he 
did  not  "  instantly  release  our  ally,  the  King  of  France. " 

The  Duke,  furious  with  anger,  had  begun,  "Now, 
by  Saint  George  of  Burgundy!"  when  the  King  inter- 
rupted him  in  a  tone  of  such  authority  that  Charles 
could  not  continue. 

"Sirrah  herald,  or  whatever  thou  art,"  said  Louis, 
"carry  back  notice  to  that  perjured  outlaw  and  mur- 
derer, William  de  la  Marck,  that  the  King  of  France 
will  be  presently  before  Liege  to  punish  his  kinsman's 
murderer,  and  that  he  proposes  to  gibbet  De  la  Marck 
alive  for  terming  himself  the  ally  of  France,  and  putting 
his  own  royal  name  into  the  mouth  of  one  of  his  base 
messengers." 

For  the  herald  the  Duke  ordered  "largesse"  of  a  new 
sort ;  that  is,  to  be  thoroughly  scourged  before  he  was 
turned  out  of  Peronne. 


THE   KING'S   DANGER  335 

Some  of  the  nobles  protested,  saying  that,  after  all, 
he  was  a  herald. 

"No  herald,"  said  the  Duke.  "I  see  by  his  blazon- 
ing that  he  is  no  herald.  Step  forward,  Toison  d'Or, 
and  question  him." 

The  herald  of  Burgundy  soon  proved,  learnedly,  that 
"Rouge  Sanglier"  was  no  better  than  an  impostor. 
The  Duke  proved  it  effectively  by  bringing  him  to  the 
confession  that  he  was  a  herald  "only  for  the  occasion." 

Whereupon  "Rouge  Sanglier"  was  hunted  with 
dogs  out  of  the  courtyard  of  Peronne,  affording  good 
sport  and  making  the  King  and  the  Duke  laugh  till 
they  almost  grew  friends  again  in  their  mirth. 

But  Oliver  Dain  whispered  to  Louis  that  this  was 
the  Bohemian  spy,  and  that  on  no  account  must  he 
have  speech  in  private  with  the  Duke.  Accordingly, 
Tristan  PHermite  stepped  forward  and  claimed  him 
as  "game  of  his." 

"My  fleur-de-lys"  he  said,  "is  on  his  shoulder,  as 
all  may  see." 

So,  with  the  permission  of  the  Duke,  they  led  out 
the  false  herald,  but  true  gipsy,  to  be  hanged.  He 
asked  only  one  favour,  that  he  might  speak  alone  with 
Quentin.  And  for  this  Quentin  had  to  pay  the  exe- 
cutioners at  the  easy  rate  of  a  guilder  a  minute. 

The  Bohemian  told   Quentin  how  he  had  always 


336  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

liked  him,  and  that  he  would  have  helped  him  to  a 
wealthy  bride,  only  that  he  thought  he  preferred  the 
elder  to  the  younger  lady  of  Croye.  But  now  he  wished 
to  leave  his  horse  to  him,  and  also  a  great  secret,  which 
was  that  when  the  Burgundians  came  to  besiege  Liege, 
De  la  Marck's  men  were  to  come  out  dressed  in  French 
uniforms,  and  he  himself  was  to  wear  the  arms  of  Dunois. 
This  would  set  the  French  and  Burgundians  at  each 
others'  throats  and  preserve  Liege  for  the  cunning 
Wild  Boar  of  the  Ardennes.  He  knew  that  he  could 
not  withstand  the  Burgundians  in  open  field,  neither 
defend  a  town  with  a  broken  wall,  but  he  hoped  that 
by  setting  King's  men  and  Duke's  men  against  each 
other,  he  would  succeed  in  winning  the  French  to  his 
side,  and  so  keep  the  city  for  himself. 

After  the  execution  of  the  gipsy,  Quentin  found  him- 
self richer  by  a  beautiful  horse,  which  came  at  the 
whistle  the  Bohemian  had  carefully  taught  him  before 
he  was  turned  off. 

The  Duke  had  set  his  mind  on  marrying  Isabelle 
of  Croye  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  That  young  man 
was  naturally  very  glad,  but  Isabelle  would  have  none 
of  him.  The  Duke  of  Burgundy  might  take  her 
estates,  but  for  the  rest  it  was  her  purpose  to  enter  the 
Convent  of  the  Ursulines. 

"The  hand  of  no  gentlewoman  can  be  disposed  of  by 


THE   KING'S   DANGER  337 

force!"  said  the  Countess  of  Crevecoeur,  backing  her 
up. 

This  made  the  Duke  exceedingly  angry.  "She 
shall  be  sent  to  the  'Spinning  House,'"  he  said;  "the 
discipline  there  will  teach  her  to  obey." 

But  Crevecoeur  interpreted  the  general  murmur  of 
anger. 

"My  Lord  Duke,"  he  said,  "let  such  a  thing  not  be 
thought  on.  If  she  has  done  wrong,  she  must  be 
punished.  But  it  shall  be  in  a  manner  befitting  her 
rank  and  ours,  who  are  her  relatives!" 

The  Duke  looked  at  him  with  the  stare  of  a  bull,  but 
suddenly  he  gave  way,  seeing  that  his  very  anger  was 
helping  the  cause  of  Louis. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said;  "I  have  a  better  plan. 
She  has  forfeited  her  estates.  We  will  give  them  to 
whoever  will  bring  us  the  head  of  the  Wild  Boar  of  the 
Ardennes.  And  if  she  will  not  marry  him,  to  the 
convent  she  shall  go!" 

Isabelle  reminded  the  Duke  that  she  was  the  daughter 
of  his  old  and  brave  servant,  and  so  ought  not  to  be 
set  up  as  a  prize  to  all  the  sworders  in  the  army. 

The  Duke  answered  that  so  her  ancestress  had  been 
won,  also  that  he  would  take  care  that  the  winner  should 
be  of  good  birth  and  a  gentleman,  however  poor. 

"And  what  of  us  who  have  got  wives  already?" 


338  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

demanded  Crevecceur;  "are  we  to  look  on  at  the  game 
without  ever  a  stroke  at  the  Wild  Boar?" 

"Strike  in  boldly,"  said  the  Duke,  now  altogether 
taken  up  with  his  new  idea,  "and  if  you  cannot  wear 
her  yourself  —  why,  let  your  nephew,  Count  Stephen, 
try  his  eloquence  against  that  of  the  Lady  Abbess." 

Only  Le  Balafre,  saying  nothing  to  any  one,  went 
over  in  his  mind  an  old  prophecy  of  the  soothsayer  of 
Glen  Houlakin,  "  that  the  house  of  the  Durwards  should 
be  set  up  again  by  a  marriage." 

"Now,  Saunders  Souplejaw,  hold  thine  own!"  he 
said;  "never  had  you  such  a  chance  as  this  to  keep 
your  word!" 


The  siege  of  Liege  was  a  great  undertaking.  The 
Burgundian  army  was  splendid  and  powerful,  and  the 
best  knights  in  France  were  there  also  —  perhaps, 
however,  more  as  hostages  than  as  fighters,  their 
numbers  being  so  few  by  comparison  with  the  Duke's 
men. 

As  they  rode  out,  Quentin  handed  a  letter  to  Isabelle 
on  the  point  of  his  spear.  She  was  sitting  with  other 
ladies  on  a  balcony.  It  was  from  her  aunt  Hameline, 
now  the  wife  of  the  Wild  Boar  of  the  Ardennes.  She 
begged  her  niece  not  to  believe  the  reports  about 


THE   ASSAULT   ON  LIEGE  339 

"  William,"  but  to  wait  till  she  knew  him  personally. 
He  had  his  faults,  of  course,  like  other  men.  William 
was  addicted  to  wine,  but  then  so  had  been  her  grand- 
sire,  the  gallant  Sir  Godfrey.  He  was  somewhat 
hasty  in  his  temper,  but  so  again  had  been  her  brother 
Reinold  of  blessed  memory.  He  was  blunt  in  speech. 
Few  Germans  were  otherwise  —  a  little  wilful  and 
peremptory,  but  she  believed  that  all  men  loved  to 
rule.  Finally,  if  Isabelle  would  come  to  the  Court  of 
Liege,  any  little  differences  as  to  succession  could  be 
got  over  by  marrying  her  to  William's  son,  the  Earl 
Eberson ! 

But  Isabelle  was  too  anxious  for  vengeance  on  the 
murderer  of  the  good  Bishop  to  mind  at  all  what  her 
aunt  said. 

However,  a  postscript  was  added  to  the  effect  that, 
for  purposes  of  policy,  "William''  was  going  to  wear 
the  armorial  bearings  of  Dunois,  and  that  she  was  busy 
embroidering  the  proper  coats  for  the  first  engagement. 

There  was  also  a  slip  which  had  not  come  from  the 
aunt,  "If  you  do  not  hear  of  me  soon,  and  that  by  the 
trumpet  of  fame,  count  me  dead,  but  not  unworthy." 

And  it  is  strange  that  ere  the  troops  were  fully  on 
their  march,  Quentin  received  back  from  an  unknown 
hand  the  letter  of  the  Lady  Hameline,  marked  with 
three  crosses  at  the  postscript,  and  the  words  added: 


340  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

"He  who  feared  not  the  arms  of  Orleans  on  the  breast 
of  their  gallant  owner,  cannot  dread  them  when  dis- 
played on  that  of  a  tyrant  and  a  murderer." 

There  could  be  no  proper  siege  of  Liege.  After  the 
last  battle  the  walls  had  never  been  repaired.  But, 
as  usual,  the  Burgundians  underestimated  their  foe. 
The  breaches  had  been  left  purposely  undefended, 
and  a  part  of  the  Burgundian  vanguard,  entering  too 
rashly,  were  fallen  upon  by  the  townsfolk  and  thrown 
back  with  a  good  many  killed. 

As  the  evening  grew  darker,  the  fate  of  the  Bur- 
gundians, still  left  in  the  city,  became  uncertain.  Louis 
made  the  Duke  still  more  angry  by  offering  to  send 
French  men-at-arms  into  the  town  to  rescue  his  un- 
fortunate vanguard.  But  two  Burgundian  captains 
rallied  them  instead,  returning,  however,  to  find  their 
own  army  in  great  confusion. 

To  complete  all,  the  night  came  down  black  as  a 
wolf's  mouth.  The  ground  was  muddy,  and  the 
whole  camp  was  full  of  captains  seeking  for  their 
soldiers,  and  soldiers  searching  for  their  proper 
standards. 

Two  villas  or  pleasure-houses  were  at  last  found  for 
the  two  princes,  and  a  guard  was  set  about  each  of 


THE   ASSAULT   ON  LIEGE  341 

them.  The  King  of  France  went  to  the  quarters  of 
the  Duke,  and  his  arrival  was  made  the  occasion  for  an 
informal  council  of  war.  As  they  were  making  out 
the  order  of  attack  the  next  day,  Quentin  Durward 
sent  word  that  he  prayed  earnestly  to  be  heard,  about 
which  there  was  no  difficulty.  Quentin  revealed  the 
purpose  of  De  la  Marck  to  make  a  sally  under  the 
uniforms  and  arms  of  the  French,  so  as  to  bring 
discord  between  the  King  and  the  Duke. 

The  King  said  this  did  not  matter  to  him,  because 
he  would  order  his  men  to  wear  white  scarfs  over  their 
arms,  but  secretly  he  was  much  annoyed  with  Quentin 
for  blurting  out  the  truth  like  that. 

"This  Scot,"  he  said  to  Oliver  le  Dain,  "is  such 
a  mixture  of  shrewdness  and  simplicity  that  I  know  not 
what  to  make  of  him.  Think  of  his  folly  in  bringing 
out  honest  De  la  Marck's  plan  in  the  face  of  Bur- 
gundy, Crevecceur,  and  all  the  rest,  instead  of  round- 
ing it  in  my  ear,  and  giving  me  a  chance  of  abetting 
or  defeating  it." 

"It  is  better  as  it  is,  sire,"  said  Oliver;  "there  are 
many  with  you,  who  would  not  turn  against  an  ally  on 
the  field  of  battle,  or  put  themselves  on  the  side  of 
De  la  Marck!" 

"Right,  Oliver,"  said  the  King;  "such  fools  there 
are  in  the  world.  Now  go  and  tell  all  the  captains  to 


342  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

give  the  order  to  shoot  as  sharply  on  those  who  cry, 
1  France '  and  ( Saint  Dennis '  as  if  they  cried  '  Hell  and 
Satan !'  I  myself  will  sleep  in  my  armour !" 

Quentin  knew  that  the  assault  would  not  be  made 
till  it  was  light  enough  in  the  morning  to  let  the  Bur- 
gundians  see  the  false  French  uniforms  —  also  the 
Dunois  coat-of-arms  that  the  Lady  Hameline  had  lately 
been  busy  with  for  her  lord  and  master. 

The  Archers  were  all  ready,  and  it  was  Quentin 
who  fired  the  first  shot.  As  soon  as  the  alarm  was 
given,  the  King  rode  off  to  Duke  Charles's  camp,  as 
it  was  of  the  utmost  necessity  to  persuade  that  hot- 
headed leader  of  his  good  faith.  Louis  got  there  only 
in  time.  For  the  Duke,  angry  at  the  onfall  of  the 
Liege  troops  on  both  sides,  was  still  more  disturbed 
by  the  cries  of  "France!  "  and  "Dennis  Montjoye!" 
which  came  from  the  followers  of  the  Wild  Boar. 
He  had  just  ordered  his  men  to  fire  on  everything 
French,  black  and  white. 

The  arrival  of  Louis,  attended  only  by  Le  Balafre*, 
Quentin,  and  half-a-score  of  Archers,  restored  con- 
fidence. Soon  the  fight  closed  all  along  the  front. 
The  Duke  toiled  in  the  first  line,  shouting,  hacking, 
and  hewing  like  an  ordinary  man-at-arms,  while  in 
the  absence  of  their  general  Crevecceur  and  D'Hym- 
bercourt  acted  as  the  proper  leaders,  bringing  their 


THE   ASSAULT   ON   LIEGE  343 

men  into  array  and  dismaying  the  assailants  by  the  use 
of  artillery. 

As  usual  Louis  behaved  well.  He  was  calm,  col- 
lected, and  sagacious.  He  neither  sought  nor  avoided 
danger,  and  the  Burgundian  captains,  deprived  of  their 
proper  chief,  obeyed  him  readily. 

Finally,  as  it  was  evident  that  the  French  had  made 
good  their  defence,  Le  Balafre*  and  Quentin  were 
sent  to  order  Dunois  to  cut  in  between  the  burghers  and 
the  city. 

"By  Heavens,"  said  Lord  Crawford  to  Dunois,  when 
they  got  clear  at  last,  "if  thou  wert  not  riding  by  my 
side,  I  should  say  that  I  saw  thee  among  yonder 
banditti,  marshalling  them  with  thy  mace ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Dunois,  "yonder  is  a  caitiff  with  my 
bearings.  For  the  which  I  shall  presently  punish  his 
insolence." 

Quentin  begged  that  the  vengeance  should  be  left 
to  him. 

"To  thee  indeed!"  cried  Dunois;  "well,  that  is  a 
modest  request.  But  no  —  such  an  insult  allows  of 
no  substitute  to  avenge  it!" 

And  he  gave  the  order  to  charge. 

While  it  lasted  it  was  one  of  the  hottest  of  fights. 
The  enemy  "made  the  hedgehog,"  as  it  was  called, 
with  their  spears  —  the  first  rank  kneeling,  the  second 
stooping,  and  the  third  standing  behind. 


344  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

Nevertheless,  Dunois  and  Quentin  fairly  broke  their 
way  into  the  phalanx.  They  contended  who  should 
first  reach  the  spot  where  stood  the  false  Dunois,  still 
urging  on  and  rallying  his  men.  Then  Dunois,  seeing 
in  another  part  of  the  field  the  usual  boar's  head  and 
tusks  of  William  de  la  Marck,  called  out  to  Quentin 
to  go  on  and  avenge  the  arms  of  Orleans. 

It  was  in  the  very  breach  that  Quentin  brought  this 
wearer  to  bay.  The  Wild  Boar  stood  in  his  borrowed 
armour,  making  terrible  use  of  his  mace.  Certainly, 
in  the  hour  of  danger,  he  was  a  magnificent  fighter, 
however  cruel  he  had  been  in  life.  Quentin  dismounted 
and  ascended  the  breach  to  measure  swords  with  the 
Wild  Boar  of  the  Ardennes,  who  turned  on  him  with 
mace  uplifted. 

But  suddenly  the  Wild  Boar  heard  behind  him  the 
noise  of  battle.  To  avoid  being  taken  in  the  rear, 
he  retreated  —  a  body  of  his  own  followers  keeping 
about  him  till  at  last  they  were  brought  to  bay  by 
Quentin  and  the  Archers. 

Six  of  the  Wild  Boar's  brood  remained  with  him  to 
fight  it  out.  They  were  to  perish,  he  said,  but  first 
they  would  kill  as  many  as  they  could  of  these  Scottish 
adventurers. 

Quentin  had  only  time  to  bid  his  uncle  and  com- 
panions as  they  were  gentlemen  to  stand  back.  Dun- 
ois had  given  him  a  charge. 


THE   KING'S    DANGER  345 

Then  De  la  Marck,  with  a  bound  like  a  tiger,  and 
timing  his  mace  to  fall  along  with  his  weight,  sprang 
upon  Quentin,  but  light  of  foot  and  quick  of  eye, 
Quentin  leaped  aside. 

Then  they  closed,  boar  and  boarhound,  Le  Balafre 
roaring  for  fair  play,  calling  out  that  he  would  venture 
his  nephew  upon  him  were  he  as  "wight  as  Wallace." 

The  blows  of  the  despairing  robber  fell  like  ham- 
mer on  anvil.  But  still  the  quick  swordsmanship  of 
Quentin  enabled  him  to  escape.  The  end  was  near. 
The  Sanglier  stood  in  a  puddle  of  blood,  though  fight- 
ing with  unabated  courage. 

Then  (added  Hugh  John,  with  a  sigh)  something 
happened  that  spoiled  it  a  bit.  But  I  can't  help  it. 
It  is  in  the  book. 

Quentin  heard  behind  him  a  voice  which  he  knew. 
In  a  moment  he  saw  that  it  was  Trudchen  Pavilion, 
the  girl  who  had  saved  both  him  and  the  Countess  of 
Croye.  She  was  in  great  danger  and  called  for  his 
help.  Of  course,  I  suppose,  he  had  to  go  and  save 
her,  as  she  had  saved  him.  But  it  let  in  Le  Balafre, 
who  in  a  sharp  contest  killed  the  Wild  Boar  and  brought 
his  head  to  Louis  and  Charles,  where  they  were  hearing 
claims  for  services  done  during  the  battle. 

Of  course  the  most  difficult  was  to  decide  who 
had  killed  the  Sanglier.  Crevecceur  showed  a  boar's 


346  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

skin  such  as  De  la  Marck  usually  wore.  Dunois 
produced  a  cloven  shield  with  De  la  Marck's  bearings. 
But  Lord  Crawford  appeared  dragging  Le  Balafre 
after  him  like  an  unwilling  mastiff  towed  in  a  leash. 

"Away  with  your  hoofs  and  hides,  your  painted 
iron,"  cried  Crawford.  "No  one  save  he  who  slew 
the  Boar  can  show  the  tusks!" 

And  he  flung  down  before  them  the  bloody  head  of 
William  de  la  Marck. 

"Crawford,"  said  Louis,  while  Duke  Charles  sat 
gloomily  apart,  regretting  that  he  had  put  so  great 
a  prize  on  such  a  rash  venture,  "Crawford,  I  trust  it 
is  one  of  my  faithful  Scots  who  has  won  the  prize." 

"It  is  Ludovic  Lesly,  sire,  whom  we  call  Le  Balafre," 
answered  the  old  captain  of  the  Guard. 

"But  is  he  noble?"  said  the  Duke;  "otherwise  our 
promise  is  void." 

"He  is  a  cross,  ungainly  piece  of  wood  enough," 
said  Crawford.  "But  I  will  warrant  him  a  branch  of 
the  tree  of  Rothes  for  all  that." 

"Then  I  have  been  overhasty,"  said  the  Duke;  "the 
fairest  and  the  richest  heiress  in  Burgundy  must  be  the 
wife  of  a  rude  mercenary  like  this,  or  die  in  a  convent !" 

"Hold  an  instant,"  said  Crawford;  "hear  what  the 
Cavalier  Lesly  has  to  say  for  himself.  Speak  out, 
man  —  and  a  murrain  on  thee!" 


AFTER   THE   ASSAULT  347 

But  Le  Balafre  was  abashed  in  the  presence  of  so 
many,  and  after  some  tremendous  contortions  of 
countenance,  all  he  was  able  to  get  out  were  the 
words,  "Saunders  Souplejaw" — and  then  stuck 
fast. 

Lord  Crawford  had  therefore  to  speak  for  him. 

"Your  Majesty  and  your  Grace,"  he  said,  "it  was 
prophesied  by  a  seer  in  his  own  country  that  his  house 
should  be  restored  by  marriage.  Now  he  is,  like 
myself,  something  the  worse  for  wear.  He  loves  the 
winehouse  better  than  a  lady's  summer  parlour,  and 
has  some  barrack  tastes  and  likings.  So  he  resigns 
the  pretensions  acquired  by  slaying  the  Wild  Boar  to 
his  nephew  —  who,  to  be  just,  did  the  most  of  the 
fighting  in  any  case!" 

The  King  was  delighted  when  he  heard  of  Quentin's 
good  luck. 

"I  can  vouch  for  the  youth,"  he  said ;  "it  was  he  who 
made  us  aware  of  the  night  sally." 

"Then,"  said  the  Duke,  "I  suppose  I  owe  him  some 
amends  for  doubting  his  word.  But  I  have  yet  to 
inquire  what  are  the  lady's  sentiments  toward  this 
fortunate  young  adventurer!" 

"By  the  Mass,"  cried  Crevecceur,  "from  what  I  saw 
at  a  certain  wicket,  and  heard  of  their  wanderings  in 
company,  I  do  not  think  your  Grace  need  trouble 


348  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

about  that  !     You  will  find  Mistress  Isabelle  much 
more  amenable  to  your  authority  on  this  occasion!" 


"Of  course,"  said  Hugh  John,  hastening  to  get  in 
his  own  criticism  ahead  of  the  others,  "I  would  have 
liked  Quentin  to  finish  up  the  whole  thing.  But  he 
had  to  save  Trudchen.  It  was  so  in  the  book.  I  could 
not  make  it  otherwise!" 

"Dee-ar  littol  George  Washington!"  sneered  Sir 
Toady  Lion;  "like  the  man  who  said  he  had  shot 
ninety-nine  ducks  with  one  shot,  and  they  asked  him 
why  he  did  not  make  it  a  hundred  at  once,  our  Hugh 
John  wouldn't  tell  a  lie  for  one  —  hum  —  hum  —  duck  !" 

This  was  a  lickable  offence,  and  Hugh  John  with 
one  droop  of  the  eye  conveyed  a  post-dated  cheque  for 
the  amount  to  Master  Toady. 

"And  what  came  of  them  after?"  said  Sweetheart. 

"And  did  the  poor  Lady  Hameline  ever  finish  that 
piece  of  embroidery?"  chimed  in  Maid  Margaret, 
who  had  plain  seams  on  the  brain  at  the  time.  Not 
that  she  loved  them  —  on  the  contrary.  Football 
with  her  brothers  and  trees  to  climb  —  these  pleased 
her  better  than  all  the  tapestry  in  the  world. 

The  others  were  somewhat  silent,  but  gradually 
thawed,  till  Butcher  Donnan  heaved  himself  up 


THE   NARRATOR   IS   REWARDED  349 

mountainously  from  his  seat  on  the  hearthstone  of  the 
Feudal  Tower,  and  putting  a  huge  paw  on  Hugh  John's 
shoulder  by  way  of  accolade,  he  made  him  free  of  the 
down-trodden  and  misrepresented  Guild  of  Fleshers. 

"And,  as  I  said  before,  whenever  you  want  a  bone 
for  the  dog,  sir,  you  have  only  to  intimate  as  much  to 
Nipper  there !" 

"And  me,"  said  Sir  Toady,  "how  about  me,  Mister 
Donnan  ?  I  have  a  dog  too,  and  as  I  have  to  be  away 
so  much  on  his  Majesty's  service,  I  can't  always  see 
that  he  is  properly  fed." 

"  Don't  trouble,  young  master,"  said  Keeper  Chesnay ; 
"when  I  see  that  ere  fox-terrier  o'  yours,  he  has  mostly 
three-quarters  of  him  in  a  rabbit  hole." 

"And  I  don't  need  to  give  him  no  bone,"  said  the 
butcher,  "for  he  comes  to  my  shop  as  bold  as  a  County 
Inspector,  and  is  off  with  a  pound  of  rump  steak 
(special  cut,  as  like  as  not,  for  my  own  dinner)  before 
I  can  so  much  as  get  my  hand  on  a  lump  of  good 
stamped  brass  to  throw  at  him." 

Elphie  slowly  shook  his  head,  and  gazed  with  ap- 
preciation at  Sir  Toady,  "He  knows  how  to  look  after 
hisself ,  that  tarrier  —  and  maybe  it  is  like  master,  like 
man,  as  the  sayin'  is,  if  it  ain't  no  offence!" 

As  for  me,  I  agreed  to  see  what  I  could  do  about 
the  Aitchison  x  25  when  business  took  me  to  the  city. 


350  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

And  with  this  promise  in  hand  and  two  sovereigns  in 
his  pouch,  Hugh  John  envied  not  a  whit  the  good  luck 
of  Quentin  Durward  —  in  right  of  his  wife  Earl  of 
Croye  and  Lord  of  Braquemart. 

"But  I  wish  I  had  a  few  uncles  like  that,"  said  Sir 
Toady;  "it  would  come  in  handy  for  a  fellow  —  court- 
ing done,  fighting  done,  bloody  head  on  the  floor, 
nothing  for  you  to  do  but  to  send  a  postcard  to  the 
lady  that  you  will  be  at  her  splendid  castle  with  your 
traps  at  half-past-five.  Then  you  go  in,  order  dinner, 
and  hang  up  your  hat.  That  may  be  soldier's  luck, 
but  it  does  not  often  happen  in  the  senior  service!" 

"See  here,  Sir  Toady,"  I  suggested,  "it  is  your  turn 
next  —you  had  better  be  off  to  study  your  tale." 

"All  right,  father,"  said  the  young  man,  coolly,  "I 
will." 

He  changed  a  handful  of  small  shot  from  his  trousers 
pocket  to  one  more  convenient,  looked  to  the  fittings  of 
his  catapult,  and  in  a  moment  was  lost  in  the  wood 
behind,  as  a  trout  drops  into  a  pool. 

"Well  of  all  the  —  cheek  —  I  never  did  see!" 
exclaimed  Keeper  Chesnay. 

And  out  of  the  green  depths  came  back  a  cheerful 
cry  of  "So  long,  Chesnay  —  keep  your  pecker  up, 
Chesnay!  So  long!  So  long!" 


RED  CAP  ADVENTURES 

TOLD    FROM 

THE   PIRATE 

AND 

A  LEGEND   OF   MONTROSE 


OF  all  the  tales  told  at  the  Feudal  Tower,  none  had 
ever  been  waited  for  with  such  expectation  as  Sir 
Toady  Lion's.  That  worthy  (or  unworthy)  knight 
had  so  long  been  airy  butterfly,  licensed  jester,  arbiter 
on  woodcraft,  birds'  eggs,  and  natural  history  generally, 
—  so  various  a  practical  and  unpractical  jester,  such 
a  libertine  in  speech  and  action,  and  generally  so  much 
accustomed  to  play  a  lone  hand  —  that  everyone  was  on 
tenter-hooks  to  know  what  he  would  do  to  earn  the 
golden  Edwards  which  attracted  him  as  strongly  as 
any  of  the  others. 

That  he  would  get  them,  no  man  doubted.  But 
how?  That  was  the  question. 

The  youth  appeared  to  give  himself  no  trouble 
about  the  matter.  He  had  not  been  seen  with  a  volume 
of  the  Abbotsford  save  on  the  very  first  day  of  the 
promise-making,  and  then  the  pictures  alone  seemed 
to  interest  him. 

Every  known  spare  moment  he  had  spent  in  the 
wood,  either  alone  or  in  company  with  Elphie. 

Now  it  was  a  noble  July  evening  when  we  gathered 
2A  353 


354  R£D   CAP  ADVENTURES 

at  the  Feudal  Tower,  all  of  us,  I  think,  a  little  earlier 
than  usual,  like  people  going  to  hear  a  popular  preacher 
—  or,  for  that  matter,  clown. 

But,  early  as  we  were,  Sir  Toady  was  there  before  us. 
Elphie  also.  They  had  something  laid  out  on  the 
ruined  wall  which  outlined  one  side  of  the  Feudal 
Tower.  It  was  a  little  too  low  at  that  place  to  be  used 
as  sitting  accommodation.  Whatever  was  underneath 
the  dust-cloths  was  hidden,  and  Sir  Toady  kept  careful 
guard,  while  Elphie  nodded  and  smiled  upon  all  like 
a  genial  host. 

We  of  the  house  descended  by  the  avenue.  The 
elders  of  the  city,  which  is  to  say,  Butcher  Donnan 
and  the  head  keeper,  strolled  along  the  waterside 
footpath,  while  various  casual  youngsters  bobbed  up 
suddenly  out  of  the  bed  of  the  river,  easy  to  be  forded 
almost  anywhere  during  the  drought  of  these  splendid 
dog-days. 

We  were  all  assembled.  All  was  as  it  should  be. 
Nobody  turned  away  and  not  a  vacant  seat  in  the  house. 
Sir  Toady  stood  with  his  cap  in  his  hand,  and  began, 
mock-heroically,  with  a  sweeping  salutation  to  the 
eager  little  amphitheatre. 

"Ladies,  gentlemen,  —  and  kids,"  he  said,  "we  have 
heard  a  heap  about  kings  and  big  pots  —  people, 
I  mean.  And  Sweetheart  and  Hugh  John  are  just 


THE   PRELUDE  355 

busting  with  '  Ho  !  my  Liege '  s,  and  *  Hey !  my  Lady '  s. 
But  we  have  not  heard  anything  about  the  places  they 
ruled  over  —  except  that  they  hunted  deer  and  pigs,  as 
it  were,  in  the  back  garden. 

"Now  since  'my  home  is  on  the  deep'  (no,  I  don't  yet 
command  the  Channel  Fleet !),  of  course  I  wanted  to  tell 
about  that.  So  I  bought  a  sixpenny  Scott's  Pirate. 
And  of  course  I  thought  it  would  be  a  proper  worth- 
the-money  pirate  —  like  Captain  Kidd,  with  an  island, 
and  barrels  of  treasure,  and  walking  the  plank.  But 
I  looked  over  —  yes,  skipped  if  you  like;  Sis  taught 
me  how  —  the  first  three  hundred  pages,  and  never 
a  pirate !  —  It  was  just  like  the  first  two  volumes  of 
Rob  Roy.  [Puzzle  —  Find  Rob !] 

"Anyway  7  couldn't  dig  out  any  pirate  —  not  to 
call  a  pirate.  There  was  no  wicked  black  schooner, 
scudding  offshore,  with  rakish  masts  and  a  hitch  to 
her  trowsies,  engaging  an  East  Indiaman,  before  mak- 
ing all  the  East  Indians  into  Spratt's  Patent  Food 
for  the  dog-fishes.  There  is  no  coral  hereabouts  for 
their  bones  to  be  worked  up  into. 

"But  the  book  was  all  about  Shetland,  and  I  can  tell 
you  about  that  —  at  least  about  the  eggs  that  come 
from  there.  I've  got  them  here." 

A  wink  to  Elphie,  and  the  two  of  them  lifted  the 
dust-sheets  and  displayed  the  finest  collection  of  sea- 


356  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

birds'  eggs  in  the  county  —  as  Sir  Toady  himself 
obligingly  explained. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  "these  are  just  the  notes, 
same  as  in  the  proper  book !  Introduction  and  Notes 
by  Sir  Toady  Lion,  R.N.,  here  present  and  certified 
fit  for  duty.  But  you  will  get  the  tale  as  well,  don't 
be  afraid,  same  as  if  you  had  all  paid  for  it  —  when 
it  is  only  father  who  will. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  in  a  graver  tone,  "  in  the  place 
where  these  eggs  came  from  —  that  is  to  say,  Shetland 
—  there  was  once  a  fine  old  fellow,  called  Magnus 
Troil.  He  wasn't  Scottish,  like  us.  Nor  English, 
like  most  of  our  fellows  at  the  Coll.  Nor  yet  Irish, 
like  Bobs.  No,  he  was  Norwegian,  and  he  liked  to 
be  called  'Udaller.'  If  you  wanted  to  buck  him  all 
up,  and  get  something  fearful  nice  out  of  him,  you  had 
to  address  him  as  'Jarl,'  which  is  to  say  Earl.  But 
he  wasn't  great  and  grand  at  all  —  only  comfortable, 
except  that  he  had  the  misfortune  to  have  two  daughters 
and  no  fine  noble  sons !  " 

Here  Sir  Toady  bowed  to  the  company,  with  a 
hand  laid  impressively  on  his  heart,  like  a  man  who 
has  to  reply  to  the  toast  of  his  own  health  at  a 
banquet. 

"  And  there  were  a  lot  of  men  who  came  to  his  house, 
some  to  see  the  girls,  but  more  because  he  always  had 


THE   PRELUDE  357 

the  rippingest  of  feeds.  Only  to  smell  the  smoke  out 
of  the  chimney  when  dinner  was  cooking  was  as  good 
as  living  in  a  pastry-cook's  back-shop  —  and  about  as 
filling  as  looking  through  the  plate-glass  windows. 

"But  nobody  went  on  the  cliffs  or  by  the  loch-sides 
to  look  at  the  eggs,  because  nobody  cared  about  such 
things  in  those  days  except,  that  is,  to  eat.  And  so 
the  big  skuas  kept  up  the  mountains  and  dared  anybody 
to  go  near  them.  Yes,  Bonxie  was  the  King  of  Shet- 
land at  that  time,  and  I'll  bet  none  of  those  down  at 
the  Udaller's  house  ever  knew  it. 

"You  see  Bonxie  is  the  big  skua,  and  he  is  about 
half  an  eagle.  I  never  saw  a  great  auk  except  in  a 
museum;  but  from  the  silly  look  of  him,  I'd  back 
Bonxie  to  finish  him  in  two  rounds. 

"Why,  he  nearly  did  for  Boss,  my  dog,  when  we  went 
there.  Bonxie  is  death  on  dogs,  and  battered  us  all 
about  the  head  pretty  warmly.  He  made  his  wings 
crack  like  a  whip  all  over  the  place." 

Then  he  pointed  to  a  large  moss-green,  seaweedy- 
looking  egg  which  occupied  a  place  of  honour  in  his 
collection. 

"Got  that  on  my  last  cruise,"  he  said  haughtily, 
"but  I  shan't  tell  where.  I  don't  want  to  get  anybody 
into  trouble." 

"I  suppose  you  were  with  the  real  Pirate?"  said 


358  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Hugh  John,  to  call  his  ornithological  brother  back  to 
the  realms  of  the  Wizard  of  the  North. 

"No,"  said  Sir  Toady,  unabashed;  "there  would 
have  been  less  poetry  and  fooling,  and  more  egg- 
collecting  if  I  had  been  up  there.  I  don't  mind  piracy, 
-  at  least,  not  to  read  about,  —  but  all  that  slack-jaw 
poetry  the  fellow  called  Claud  Halcro  got  off  nearly 
made  me  sick." 

"You  are  not  required  to  provide  your  own  criti- 
cisms," I  said  to  the  youth;  "that  is,  not  if  you  want  to 
be  paid  cash  for  your  story." 

Toady  Lion  waved  his  hand  about  over  the 
eggs. 

"You  pay  for  going  into  an  exhibition,  don't  you?" 
he  said;  "and  you  will  go  a  long  way  before  you  find 
as  fine  a  one  as  that;  eh,  Chesnay?" 

Keeper  Chesnay  had  been  wandering  from  point  to 
point,  shaking  his  head  and  looking  wise.  Now  he 
spoke. 

"If  I  were  a  betting  man,  which  I  ain't,  Master 
Toady,"  he  said,  "I  could  wager  that  some  o'  them 
eggs  came  from  places  a  deal  nearer  than  the  Shetland 
Islands  —  ay,  a  deal  nearer !  And  as  for  the  Pirate, 
I  could  put  my  hand  on  him  this  minute,  if  it  were  not 
for  the  respected  gentleman  on  whose  wall  we  are  at 
present  sitting!" 


THE   PRELUDE  359 

Which,  at  least,  shows  the  advantage  of  being 
respectably  connected,  if  you  are  a  pirate. 

"More  story  and  less  Bonxie,  please!"  said  Hugh 
John,  to  divert  attention. 

"Cover  up  the  pearls !"  said  Sir  Toady,  disgustedly, 
with  a  pointed  Biblical  reference  for  which  a  more 
serious  person  would  doubtless  have  been  expelled 
the  meeting. 

Then  he  struck  an  attitude  and,  throwing  down  an 
imaginary  gauntlet,  announced  in  quarter-deck  tones, 
"You  shall  have  it  — ha,  ha!" 

Accordingly  he  announced: 

"THE  STORY  OF  PIRATE  CLEVELAND,  OR,  THE 
BENEVOLENT  BUCCANEER." 

"See  here,"  I  said,  "Toady  Lion,  let  it  be  understood 
that  there  are  to  be  no  monkey  tricks.  We  are  glad  to 
see  your  eggs  and  to  hear  all  about  them.  But  no  one 
is  to  make  fun  of  any  of  Sir  Walter's  books  — " 

"But  what  if  it  is  funny?"  said  the  Incorrigible 
One. 

"Then  go  and  be  funny  elsewhere,"  I  said ;  "there  is 
room  enough  in  the  woods  —  " 

"Yes,  too  much  room !"  interjected  Keeper  Chesnay, 
sorrowfully.  He  had  found  specimens  of  the  eggs  of 
some  of  his  rarest  game-birds,  discreetly  retired  indeed, 


360  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

but  easily  patent  to  his  practised  eye.  Only  the  pheas- 
ant was  conspicuous  by  its  absence. 

"But  you  said  that  I  could  tell  the  story  in  my  own 
way!"  objected  Sir  Toady,  "and  this  is  my  way." 

"Well,  then,  go  on!"  I  cried,  weary  of  the  strife, 
"or  if  you  can't,  leave  the  way  clear  for  Maid  Margaret." 

"Can  I  have  my  two  sovereigns  then?"  demanded 
the  ornament  of  fleets. 

"Certainly  not !"  I  replied,  aghast  at  such  superiority 
of  cheek;  "not  one  little  half-f arthing ! " 

"And  that's  worth  something  too,"  said  Sir  Toady. 
"One  of  our  fellows  has  one  that  he  says  brings  him 
luck.  He  wears  it  about  his  neck  night  and  day." 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  the  story,  or  are  you  not?" 

"Certainly  —  certainly — "  said  Toady  Lion,  with 
the  most  innocent  expression  in  the  world.  "That  is 
what  I  have  been  wanting  to  do  for  half  an  hour  —  if 
only  you  people  would  let  me!" 


SIR  TOADY  LION'S  STORY  OF  "THE  PIRATE," 
WHICH  HE   TOLD   FOR  LOVE 

Now  I've  dug  in  that  book  (said  Sir  Toady,  his 
hand  stealing  under  the  dust-sheet  to  verify  the  position 
of  one  of  his  egg-cases),  I've  dug  and  I've  dug.  And 
all  I  can  find  about  a  pirate  is  this. 

He  was  a  chap  called  Captain  Cleveland.  And  at 
first,  and  for  a  long  time,  nobody  took  him  for  a  pirate. 
You  see  he  stayed  all  day  long  about  the  Udaller's 
house,  eating  and  drinking  and  thinking  of  sweet 
things  to  say  to  the  girls,  especially  to  Minna,  the  eldest. 
She  was  a  girl  with  lots  of  go,  but  somehow  had  fallen 
in  love  with  this  fellow.  You  never  can  tell  what  girls 
will  be  up  to. 

Of  course  he  meant  to  keep  away  from  all  his  bad 
associates,  whom  in  the  past  he  had  led  astray.  For 
his  ship  was  off  the  coast,  and  the  pirates  stepped  ashore 
and  took  sheep  for  their  dinners,  and  kissed  the  girls, 
and  got  drinks  and  dinners  without  paying  for  them 
—  oh,  a  lot  of  dastardly  things  like  that  —  just  the 
same  as  their  own  precious  Captain  was  doing  —  all 
except  the  sheep. 

But,  of  course,  the  Captain  was  noble,  and  they  were 
all  perfect  brutes. 


362  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Well,  after  the  Captain  had  had  the  run  of  the 
Udaller's  house  for  ever  so  long,  he  began  to  tell  Minna 
—  who  must  have  been  pretty  soft  to  believe  one- third 
of  it  —  how  he  had  been  all  his  life  fighting  the  Span- 
iards on  the  Spanish  main.  So  she  wanted  him  to 
stop  being  a  pirate,  get  a  fleet  together,  set  sail,  and 
blow  all  the  Spaniards  in  the  Indies  to  eternal  smither- 
eens, and  come  sailing  back  to  claim  Minna. 

Of  course  Captain  Cleveland  knew  a  good  deal 
better  than  that.  For  he  said:  "That  is  all  very  well. 
But  what  if  you  are  a  bride  or  a  wife  when  I  come  back ! " 

Then  she  said  that  she  would  swear  to  be  true  to 
him,  by  the  Promise  of  Odin  given  at  the  Standing 
Stones  of  Stennis.  She  was  full  up  as  a  cow  in  a  clover 
meadow  with  all  that  sort  of  superstitions  —  about 
Odin  and  Thor  as  well  as  the  heroes  of  her  warlike 
race  who  had  stood  up  to  them  and  given  them  fits. 

Of  course,  after  this  promise,  it  was  time  for  her  to 
ask  her  lover  to  confide  to  her  "the  story  of  his  life." 

[Here  Sir  Toady  sighed  audibly.] 

I  give  it  to  you  as  it  is  in  the  book  (he  said  sor- 
rowfully), but  if  ever  a  girl  asks  me  for  the  story  of 
my  life  —  I  hope  I  shall  make  a  better  use  of  my 
opportunities ! 


THE   PIRATE  363 

"I  ought  to  tell  you,"  said  the  Pirate,  "that  I  spent 
my  earliest  years  upon  a  solitary  plantation  in  the 
little  island  of  Tortuga,  under  the  charge  of  my  father. 
We  were  often  plundered  by  the  Spaniards,  and  at 
last  reduced  to  such  a  depth  of  despair,  that  out  of 
revenge  he  became  a  chief  of  buccaneers.  He  had 
good  luck  and  bad  luck,  but  he  died  suddenly  when 
trying  to  stop  some  violence  among  his  comrades.  He 
had  been  a  poor  planter,  but  he  died  a  good  pirate. 

"A  short  while  before  my  father's  death,  I  came, 
though  then  very  young,  into  the  command  of  a  sloop, 
manned  with  thirty  as  desperate  fellows  .as  ever  handled 
musket.  We  cruised  for  a  long  time  with  poor  success, 
taking  nothing  but  wretched  small  craft,  laden  with 
turtle  and  other  trumpery. 

"Well,  of  course,  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  my 
fellows  from  revenging  on  the  crews  of  these  baubling 
shallops  the  disappointment  they  had  caused  us  by 
being  so  poor. 

"At  length  we  grew  desperate,  and  made  a  descent 
on  a  village  where  we  were  told  we  should  intercept 
the  mules  of  a  certain  Spanish  governor,  laden  with 
treasure.  We  carried  the  place;  but  while  I  was 
endeavouring  to  save  the  inhabitants  from  the  fury 
of  my  followers,  the  muleteers  escaped  into  the 
woods. 


364  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

"This  filled  the  cup  of  my  unpopularity.  I  was 
thought  to  be  too  tender-hearted  for  a  real  working 
pirate,  and  my  people,  who  had  long  been  discontented, 
became  openly  mutinous. 

"I  was  deposed  from  my  command  in  solemn  council, 
and  condemned,  as  having  too  little  luck  and  too  much 
humanity  for  my  business,  to  be  marooned  on  one  of 
these  little  sandy,  bushy  islets  called  'keys,'  which  are 
only  frequented  by  the  turtle  and  the  sea-fowl. 

"Many  of  these  are  said  to  be  haunted  —  some  by 
the  demons  worshipped  by  the  old  inhabitants,  some  by 
caciques  or  native  chiefs  whom  the  Spaniards  had  put 
to  death  by  torture  to  compel  them  to  discover  their 
hidden  treasures. 

"My  place  of  banishment  was  about  two  and  a  half 
leagues  to  the  southeast  of  Bermudas.  It  was  called 
Coffin  Key,  and,  they  said,  was  all  crowded  up  with 
spectres.  The  fellows  who  landed  me  would  hardly 
stay  there  an  hour,  even  in  open  daylight,  and  pulled 
for  the  sloop,  afraid  to  look  behind  them. 

"So  I  was  left  alone  on  a  speck  of  sand,  surrounded 
by  the  boundless  Atlantic,  and  haunted  by  the  most 
malignant  demons. 

"Well,  I  supported  life  as  well  as  I  could  on  sea- 
fowl,  aptly  called  boobies,  which  were  silly  enough  to 
let  me  approach  so  near  that  I  could  knock  them  down 


THE   PIRATE  365 

with  a  stick.  I  ate  also  turtle-eggs,  when  the  boobies 
began  to  know  me  better. 

"And  the  demons?  Well,  of  course,  at  first  I  was  a 
good  deal  scared.  I  had  been  brought  up  among  people 
who  were  frightened  of  such  things.  In  broad  daylight 
or  in  utter  darkness  I  did  not  mind  them  much.  But 
in  the  misty  dawn  or  when  night  was  falling  I  saw, 
during  my  first  week  on  the  key,  many  a  dim  and  un- 
defined spectre,  now  resembling  a  Spaniard  with  his 
capa  wrapped  about  him,  and  his  huge  sombrero,  as 
large  as  an  umbrella,  upon  his  head.  Now  I  saw  in- 
stead a  Dutch  sailor,  with  his  rough  cap  and  trunk- 
hose  ;  or  again  an  Indian  chief  with  his  feathery  crown 
and  long  lance  of  cane ! 

"Oh,  yes,  I  always  went  forward  to  address •  them, 
but  —  I  can't  help  it  if  you  are  disappointed  —  when- 
ever I  drew  near  them,  the  phantoms  changed  into 
a  bush,  or  a  piece  of  driftwood,  or  a  wreath  of  mist. 

"So  at  last  I  cared  nothing  whatever  about  them, 
minding  the  solitude  more  than  I  would  half-a-dozen 
good  companionable  ghosts. 

"Four  weeks  of  wretched  existence  did  I  spend  on 
that  islet,  when  I  was  relieved  by  the  crew  of  a  vessel 
which  came  thither  a-turtling.  Yet  my  time  of  misery 
was  useful  to  me.  For  on  that  barren  spot  I  forged 
the  iron  mask  which  has  ever  since  been  my  chief 


366  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

security  against  the  mutiny  or  treason  of  my  fol- 
lowers. 

"I  made  up  my  mind  to  seem  no  more  humane,  or 
better  instructed,  or  softer-hearted  than  the  others. 
Brave,  skilful,  and  enterprising  I  had  been  before,  but 
now  I  resolved  to  sink  all  the  better  part  of  me  in  the 
rude  seaman. 

"Soon  after  my  escape  I  was  at  the  head  of  a  new 
body  of  these  reckless  adventurers.  I  sought  after 
those  who  had  betrayed  my  father,  and  on  them  I 
took  a  revenge  which  was  sufficient  to  stamp  me  with 
a  name  for  inexorable  ferocity.  I  wanted  my  men  to 
think  I  was  really  like  that.  My  speech,  manner, 
everything,  seemed  totally  changed.  So  much  so  that 
those  who  knew  me  before  put  the  difference  down  to 
my  intercourse  with  the  demons  that  haunted  the  sands 
of  Coffin  Key." 

And  that  (said  Toady  Lion,  lifting  his  eyes  sud- 
denly from  the  back  of  Elphie's  coat,  on  which,  it  is 
now  suspected,  a  leaf  of  the  sixpenny  Pirate  had  been 
pinned)  is  what  Captain  Cleveland  the  Pirate  told 
Minna  Troil  about  his  own  life.  What  is  more  won- 
derful, she  believed  him. 

After  that  she  urged  him  to  reform,  and  he  said  he 
would,  though  going  on  living  upon  her  father  all  the 
while.  He  might  have  succeeded,  too,  only  that  the 


THE  PIRATE  367 

Udaller  was  captured  along  with  his  daughters  by  these 
very  pirates  —  under  their  new  captain,  a  rascal  named 
Goffe,  and  a  jolly  kind  of  fellow  called  Jack  Bunce, 
who  had  learned  to  be  a  pirate  while  an  actor  in 
London. 

On  board  the  pirate  ship  they  drank  punch  in  cans 
and  made  merry  on  deck.  For  their  Captain  Cleve- 
land was  still  on  shore,  and  it  took  Jack  Bunce  all  his 
time  to  get  the  girls  sent  safely  to  Kirkwall.  But  they 
kept  the  Udaller  as  a  hostage  for  their  Captain,  and 
also  to  get  provisions  from  the  Kirkwall  people  for  the 
voyage. 

Minna  and  Brenda  would  hardly  leave  their  father, 
but  he  bade  them  begone  as  soon  as  possible  while  the 
pirates  were  in  the  mood.  As  for  him,  he  cared  little 
for  himself  so  long  as  his  daughters  were  safe. 

Bunce,  who  was  Cleveland's  best  helper,  gave  Minna 
a  pistol  to  defend  them  both,  as  he  himself  had  to 
remain  by  the  ship.  Minna  left  word  with  her  guide 
that  whatever  was  the  answer  from  the  town,  the  pirates 
were  to  take  their  ship  round  to  Stromness  and  send  a 
boat  ashore  for  Captain  Cleveland  when  he  should  see 
a  smoke  on  the  Bridge  of  Broisgar,  a  kind  of  rocky 
point  jutting  out  into  the  sea. 

Cleveland  was  still  a  hostage  in  Kirkwall.  He  was 
watched,  but  not  kept  in  prison.  He  was  allowed  to 


368  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

walk  about  —  and  being  a  pirate,  of  course,  he  never 
went  near  the  public-houses,  but  spent  his  time  in  the 
Cathedral,  mourning  that  no  one  would  put  up  a 
marble  monument  with  armorial  bearings  over  him! 

11  My  whitening  bones,"  he  said,  "will  swing  in  the 
gibbet-irons,  on  some  wild  beach  or  lonely  cape,  and 
the  old  mariner,  as  he  passes  the  Sound,  will  shake  his 
head  and  tell  of  my  name  and  actions  as  a  warning  to 
his  younger  comrades."  [At  this  point  the  tale-teller 
was  again  called  to  order.] 

Well,  anyway  (he  continued),  he  was  just  enlivening 
himself  up  with  thoughts  like  these,  when  Minna 
Troil  stood  beside  him.  She  told  him  how  that  she 
had  been  among  the  pirates  and  had  been  saved  by 
the  power  of  his  name  "which  was  all  that  reminded 
her  of  the  noble  qualities  she  had  once  thought  her 
Cleveland's!" 

"Yes,"  he  said  proudly,  "my  name  has  power  over 
them  even  when  at  their  wildest.  But  what  can  I  do 
for  your  father?" 

Minna  told  him  to  take  her  cloak  and  steal  out  in  the 
gloaming.  Wrapped  in  that,  he  could  easily  pass  the 
guards,  to  whom  she  had  given  the  means  of  carousing. 
By  that  time  they  would  not  know  the  difference  be- 
tween a  six-foot  pirate  and  the  prettiest  girl  in  Kirk- 
wall.  Then  he  was  to  go  to  the  Bridge  of  Broisgar, 


BUNCE    GAVE    MINNA    A     PISTOL.' 


THE   PIRATE  369 

and  the  vessel  he  commanded  would  send  a  boat  ashore 
for  him. 

The  Pirate  cast  his  eyes  up  to  heaven  and  said  he 
would  flee  — for  her  father's  sake!  Then  Minna  went 
to  the  house  where  she  lodged,  where  she  told  the 
magistrate  (when  he  came  to  make  inquiries)  that  she 
had  parted  with  Cleveland  in  the  Cathedral  about  two 
hours  before. 

Well  (continued  Toady  Lion),  as  soon  as  Cleveland 
got  on  board  of  the  Fortune's  Favourite  (which  was  the 
name  of  his  pirate  ship),  he  ordered  Magnus  Troil  to 
be  put  on  shore  pretty  quick.  And  he  saw  that  it  was 
done,  too. 

But  it  wasn't  all  finished  then,  as  you  might  think. 
What  did  this  Minna  Troil  do,  but  she  must  go  and 
stay  at  a  lonely  place  called  the  House  of  Stennis,  all 
because  she  had  got  a  letter  from  Cleveland  asking 
her  for  a  "last  interview."  It  was  written  in  character 
"more  like  fire  than  ink"  — gold  paint,  most  likely. 

Now  Cleveland  was  a  first-class  fool,  because  he  was 
risking  his  neck,  and  Minna  and  Brenda  were  two  more 
to  leave  a  safe  town  and  put  themselves  where  they 
might  be  easily  captured.  Indeed,  they  came  mighty 
near  it,  as  it  was.  For  Jack  Bunce  resolved  to  carry 
them  off,  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  it.  He  thought  he 
was  a  little  in  love  with  Brenda  himself,  and  that  if 


370  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Minna  was  so  sick  about  his  captain,  her  sister  might 
fancy  him.  But  it  didn't  work.  For  you  see  there 
was  another  fellow  called  Mordaunt  looking  after  the 
girls  —  especially  Brenda.  He  had  raised  quite  a 
decent  little  force  of  men,  and  generally  turned  out  as 
plucky  as  they  are  made.  Mordaunt  didn't  like  pirates 
—  especially  Cleveland.  So  he  had  sent  word  to  one 
of  his  Majesty's  ships,  the  Halcyon,  to  come  up  from 
Wick  and  blow  the  Fortune's  Favourite  out  of  the 
water. 

The  "last  interview"  was  to  take  place  at  the  Stand- 
ing Stones  of  Stennis  —  a  place  like  Stonehenge  —  at 
sunrise,  when  the  black-backed  gulls  were  just  leaving 
their  nests,  and  the  guillemots  rising  like  so  many  white 
dots  into  the  air  off  the  shelves.  (Show  the  eggs, 
Elphie,  please !  That's  right !) 

But  I  don't  believe  either  Minna  or  the  Pirate  ever 
noticed  them.  Nor  yet  the  Pirate's  crew,  who  were 
creeping  up  to  nail  the  girls.  Nor  yet  Mordaunt  and 
his  men,  who  had  cut  in  between  them  and  their  boats. 

Cleveland  did  not  get  much  good  out  of  his  "last 
farewell."  For  Minna  had  just  done  calling  him  an 
"unhappy  man,"  asking  him  "Why  didst  thou  seek 
this  aggravation  of  our  woe?"  and  telling  him  to  "de- 
part in  peace"  —  when  Mordaunt  and  his  men  set  on 
the  sailors,  and  the  sailors  on  the  girls,  or  t'other  way 


THE   PIRATE  371 

about.  Anyhow,  it  was  pretty  mixed  for  a  while.  But 
when  the  scrimmage  cleared  a  bit,  Mordaunt,  who 
had  seen  the  sisters  in  full  flight  to  the  house,  advanced 
on  Cleveland,  with  his  cutlass  drawn.  Then  the 
Pirate  did  his  best  for  the  last  time,  and  it  was  a 
corker ! 

"Mordaunt,"  he  said,  as  he  fired  his  pistol  in  the 
air,  "/  never  missed  my  aim" 

All  the  same  he  was  a  noble  pirate  and  allowed  him- 
self to  be  taken  peaceful-like,  to  avoid  any  disturbance. 
Indeed,  he  created  quite  a  lot  of  sympathy.  The  cap- 
tain of  the  Halcyon  man-of-war  found  out  that  Cleve- 
land had  done  a  lot  of  fearfully  noble  things  out  in  the 
Indies  —  saved  Spanish  ladies  and  got  tipped  the 
"black-spot"  for  it.  He  seemed  to  have  passed  his 
life  that  way.  Indeed  (Sir  Toady  summed  up),  any  one 
less  fitted  than  Cleveland  for  the  responsible  post  of 
pirate  captain,  I  have  not  come  across  in  dll  my  reading. 

["No  comments,  sir,  if  you  want  any  of  the  prize- 
money,"  I  said.  Sir  Toady  touched  his  cap,  navy- 
fashion,  and  resumed.] 

When  at  last  the  Fortune's  Favourite  did  show  some 
fight  against  the  Halcyon,  her  captain  and  Jack  Bunce 
were  snugly  jailed  in  the  House  of  Stennis. 

They  saw  old  Goffe  mistake  his  Majesty's  ship  for 
a  West  Indiaman  laden  with  rum  and  sugar.  He 


372  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

slipped  his  cable  and  gave  chase,  when  his  only  chance 
was  to  run  into  shallow  water.  This  made  them  mad. 

"The  fool!  the  dotard!  the  drivelling,  drunken 
idiot!"  said  Cleveland;  "now  he  will  get  his  flip  hot 
enough,  for  that  ship  is  the  frigate  Halcyon.  Look  — 
she  hoists  her  colours  and  fires  a  broadside.  There 
will  soon  be  an  end  of  the  Fortune's  Favourite.  I  only 
hope  they  will  fight  her  to  the  last  plank." 

Well,  they  did  what  they  could  (said  Sir  Toady), 
after  all  that  naval  language  (why  couldn't  he  have 
talked  like  that  to  Minna?).  Then  the  Jolly  Hodge, 
which  is  to  say  the  Jolly  Roger,  went  up  —  the  pirate's 
death's  head  and  cross-bones,  or  sand-glass  as  they 
had  then. 

The  sloop,  though  hard  pressed,  maintained  a  running 
fight,  the  frigate  in  full  chase,  without  firing,  showing 
that  she  wanted  to  board  and  take  her  for  the  sake  of 
the  plunder  on  board. 

"  Now,  Goffe  —  now,  boatswain  !"  exclaimed  Cleve- 
land, "stand  by  sheets  and  tacks  —  rake  her  with  a 
broadside,  when  you  are  under  her  bows.  Then  about 
ship  and  go  off  on  the  other  tack  like  a  wild  goose. 
The  sails  shiver  —  the  helm's  a-lee  —  ah,  deep  sea 
sink  the  lubbers !  They  miss  stays  and  the  frigate 
runs  them  aboard!" 

Now  (said  Sir  Toady,  who  felt  that  this  was  really 


THE   PIRATE  373 

a  naval  matter),  that's  what  the  fellow  said  —  issued 
his  orders  at  two  miles'  distance  through  a  spy-glass 
instead  of  commanding  on  his  own  quarter-deck  like 
a  man  —  all  because  he  wanted  to  hear  a  girl  slang 
him  for  the  last  time.  Blow  (concluded  the  naval 
hero,  contemptuously) !  I  don't  care  if  I  do  get  docked 
for  it,  but  I  will  say  that  this  Mister  Cleveland  may 
have  been  a  good  pirate,  but  he  was  no  good  officer. 
He  never  stood  by  his  ship  for  more  than  five  minutes 
at  a  time,  and  then  even  he  was  on  tenter-hooks  to  get 
sneaking  off  again. 

[This,  being  expert  opinion,  was  allowed  to  pass, 
specially  as  the  critic  had  really  risked  his  all  upon  his 
criticism,  and,  as  it  were,  signed  his  name  in  full  at  the 
bottom.] 


Well  (he  continued),  the  pirates  couldn't  even  blow 
up  the  ship  properly  —  not  enough  gunpowder  —  just 
a  fizz  and  some  black  smoke.  Then  Cleveland  and 
Bunce  were  sent  for  by  the  captain  of  the  Halcyon  — 
as  you  would  have  thought,  to  be  hung.  But  instead, 
it  was  found  out  that  Cleveland  had  been  formerly 
called  Clement  Vaughan.  He  was  a  long-lost  half- 
brother  of  his  captor  Mordaunt,  and  once  he  had  pro- 
tected, at  the  hazard  of  his  own  life,  two  noble  Spanish 


374  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

ladies.  So  had  Jack  Bunce  —  just  the  same,  all  except 
the  half-brother.  And  the  captain  called  them  "the 
Quempoa  heroes"  and  very  nearly  gave  them  his  own 
cabin !  They  were  a  different  sort  from  our  captains 
now  —  weather  eye  not  nearly  so  wide  open,  and  this 
Halcyon  fellow  was  easy  to  "green"  —  oh,  remarkable ! 
I  wish  we  could  get  round  our  "owners"  as  easy !  The 
navy  would  be  a  happier  place ! 

["Ah,  me!"  sighed  Sir  Toady  Lion.] 

Well  (he  continued),  Cleveland,  Bunce,  and  one  or 
two  of  the  less  guilty  pirates  were  employed  in  the  West 
India  service.  They  became  distinguished  for  putting 
down  piracy  in  the  Spanish  main.  In  this  good  work 
the  ex-pirate  Cleveland  was  much  helped  by  a  letter 
from  Minna  —  the  last  of  all  her  last  wills  and  testa- 
ments. It  began,  "Farewell,  Cleveland!  We  part 
forever,  and  it  is  right  that  we  should.  Be  virtuous 
and  be  happy!" 

And  Cleveland,  with  a  deep  emotion,  which  he  testi- 
fied even  by  tears,  read  it  a  hundred  times  over,  and 
then  clasped  it  to  his  bosom. 

End  of  the  Pirate  —  Molly-coddle!  (cried  Sir  Toady, 
joyously,  unable  to  resist  the  epithet). 

******* 

Again  I  felt  it  was  my  duty  to  check  Master  Toady, 


JUDGEMENT  375 

to  whom  I  intimated  very  plainly  that  his  tale  had  not 
been  related  in  the  proper  spirit.  And  that,  till  he 
told  another  with  less  mockery,  and  with  more  reverence, 
no  money  would  pass  between  us. 

"But  you  said  that  I  was  to  tell  the  story  in  my  own 
way!"  urged  Sir  Toady. 

"Certainly,"  I  answered,  "but  let  that  be  a  reverent 
way!"  Here  Sir  Toady  spread  his  hands  abroad  to 
signify  that  I  was  asking  impossibilities,  and  I  must 
add  that  the  audience  generally  agreed  with  him.  So, 
in  deference  to  this  feeling,  I  temporised:  "Well,  then, 
take  some  book  which  you  really  like  —  tell  the  story 
as  well  as  you  can,  without  monkey  tricks,  and  I  will 
give  you  your  two  guineas  like  the  others." 

"Even  if  the  story  be  shorter?"  said  Sir  Toady. 

"Even  if— "  I  said. 

"I  couldn't  have  half  a  sov  now,  on  account,  could 
I?"  he  suggested. 

My  answer  to  this  was  the  more  emphatic  of  the  two 
monosyllables  available. 

But  Sir  Toady  did  not  seem  at  all  cast  down.  He 
suggested  that  the  audience  might  see  their  way  to 
"taking  up  a  collection."  Then,  finding  this  vetoed, 
he  said  that  he  was  prepared  to  sell  a  dozen  selected 
eggs,  properly  blown  and  labelled,  for  ten  shillings. 
There  were  no  takers.  So  he  and  Elphie  sadly  slid 


376  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

the  lids  on  the  cases  of  eggs  and  began  to  carry  them  up 
to  the  harness-room. 

Our  three  grown-up  guests  were  clearly  not  of  my 
faction.  As  for  Elphie,  his  disapproval  was  expressed 
even  in  the  contours  of  his  back,  but  I  was  not  prepared 
for  the  strong  feeling  of  John  Chesnay  in  the  matter. 

"Discipline  is  discipline."  he  said  gravely;  "I  know 
it  well.  But  it  do  seem  to  me  —  begging  your  pardon, 
sir  —  that  you  was  just  a  bit  overhard  on  the  young 
gentleman.  'Twas  a  good  story  as  he  told  it,  and  I 
never  did  hold  wi'  pirates.  Though  I  will  not  deny 
that  there  Captain  Kidd  and  Amory  Black  Beard  and 
the  rest  make  interesting  readin'  in  old  Johnston's 
Lives  of  Pirates  and  Sea  Robbers" 

Butcher  Donnan  stood  by  his  original  proposal  — 
"to  make  up  a  bit  for  the  young  gentleman !"  He  had 
not  seen  anything  funny  or  improper  in  the  telling  of 
the  tale,  and  considered  the  conclusion  both  edifying 
and  instructive.  So  much  so,  that  he  called  Nipper's 
wandering  attention  to  the  value  of  immediate  reform 
in  the  matter  of  getting  up  in  the  morning  —  founding 
his  argument  in  some  vague  way  on  the  good  services 
of  Captain  Cleveland,  reformed  pirate,  on  that  very 
Spanish  main  which  he  had  once  filled  with  his  iniqui- 
ties. 

"All  very  well,"  grumbled  Nipper;  "I  would  get  up 


JUDGEMENT  377 

in  the  morning,  too,  if,  instead  of  having  the  shop  to 
brush  out,  I  could  make  my  living  catching  pirates  on 
the  Spanish  main." 

"You  do  what  I  tell  you,  Nipper,"  said  his  father, 
"or  what  I'll  give  you  will  be  worse  than  all  them 
faked  pirates  put  together!  You  hear?" 

"Yes,  sir!"  said  Nipper  Donnan. 

His  father  gazed  fixedly  at  Nipper  for  a  good  while, 
as  if  to  make  sure  that  he  understood.  Nipper  did  not 
disappoint  an  anxious  parent.  Any  more  obedient 
boy  than  Nipper  at  that  moment  could  not  have  been 
found  in  half-a-dozen  counties.  Convinced  on  this 
point,  Butcher  Donnan  returned  to  the  charge. 

"I  like  the  young  gentleman's  tales,"  he  said;  "and 
if  he  does  carry  his  tail  a  bit  high  like  his  own  fox- 
terrier  —  well,  that's  naught  again'  a  sailor  as  ever  I 
heard!" 

"Well,"  I  said,  "we  will  give  him  another  chance. 
So  far  as  the  past  is  concerned,  I  can't  go  back  on  what 
I  have  said." 

"Well,  no !"  said  both  men  together,  "of  course  not; 
but  if  we  was  you,  sir,  we  should  go  a  bit  easy  on  him 
the  next  go ! " 

The  only  person  entirely  uninterested  was  apparently 
Sir  Toady  himself.  He  was  listening  to  the  proposals 
of  his  elder  brother,  who,  as  a  budding  soldier,  had 


378  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

become  attached  as  "galloper"  to  the  local  corps  of 
volunteers.  There  was  to  be  a  sham  fight  on  Saturday, 
and  it  was  the  purpose  of  both  boys  to  be  good  active 
scouts,  and  to  keep  the  local  commander-in-chief  well 
posted  as  to  movements  of  the  enemy  advancing  from 
the  great  city  of  Dunedin. 

As  he  listened  Toady  grinned  approval.  He  ought 
to  have  been  deep  in  his  new  book,  but  for  that  very 
reason  Saturday  was  sure  to  find  him  on  the 
moors. 

There  was  much  fighting.  Deadly  deeds  of  valour 
were  done  with  blank  cartridge.  Hugh  John,  far  in 
front  of  the  firing  line,  worked  his  Aitchison,  and  rode 
back  to  make  his  reports  in  noble  style.  More  than 
once  the  two  heroes  were  almost  captured,  so  far  did 
Hugh  John  push  his  reconnoissances  against  the  in- 
vaders. Then,  blotted  from  sight  behind  a  hastily 
raised  mound  of  peat,  he  took  stock  of  the  enemy's 
numbers  and  line  of  advance.  What  was  his  horror, 
on  turning  round,  filled  with  all  the  noble  enthusiasm 
of  war,  to  find  Sir  Toady  eagerly  scanning  the  ground 
in  search  of  birds'  eggs ! 

"Lie  down,  Toady  Lion;  don't  you  know  you're 
under  fire?"  hissed  Hugh  John.  "Lie  down,  or  I'll 
lick  you ! " 

"It's  a  ring-ouzel,"  said  Sir  Toady,  calmly,  continu- 


ANOTHER   PIRATE  379 

ing  his  search;  "first I've  seen  on  the  moors  this  year. 
There's  his  mate.  Its  nest  is  bound  to  be  somewhere 
about." 

"Lie  down,  Toad;  you  hear  me?"  growled  his  elder 
brother.  "Don't  you  know  we  have  got  to  fall  back  in 
ten  minutes?  They  are  advancing!" 

"Oh,  are  they?"  said  Sir  Toady,  all  unmoved.  "Ten 
minutes  isn't  much,  but  I'll  do  my  best!" 

And  he  continued  his  search  among  the  scattered 
bushes  of  gorse  and  heather.  At  last,  under  the  shelter 
of  a  juniper  bush  overhanging  a  steep  bank,  he  found 
a  nest  of  coarse  grass,  mud  plastered,  and  lined  with  soft 
grass  and  feathers.  Four  eggs  were  within,  pale  sea- 
green  with  dots  of  Vandyke  brown  —  the  property  of 
the  aforesaid  ring-ouzel  without  a  doubt. 

He  bounded  upon  the  find  with  joy. 

"I'll  take  two  —  she  will  lay  six,"  said  the  egg- 
collector.  "  Charging,  are  they  ?  Well,  let  them  charge ! 
Their  old  colonel  is  a  friend  of  father's.  I'm  going  to 
have  the  eggs!" 

"  Fall  back  —  fall  back !  Don't  you  hear  the  bugle  ?  " 
cried  Hugh  John. 

"  Oh,  I  hear  well  enough,  but  I'm  going  to  have  the 
eggs!"  and  the  young  martyr  to  science  put  three  in 
his  mouth  —  an  extra  one  to  make  sure. 

"See  here,  Toad,"  cried  Hugh  John,  fairly  out  of 


380  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

himself,  "if  you  don't  fall  back  when  you  are  ordered, 
I'll  smash  you  and  your  eggs  too  !  " 

Accordingly  they  mounted  their  steely  steeds,  and 
made  good  going  across  country,  bumping  and  swaying 
as  they  went. 

"I  say,  Toadums,"  said  Hugh  John,  hours  after- 
wards, when  peace  had  been  made,  "what  made  you 
gasp  and  guggle  when  we  had  to  ride  through  that 
ditch  to  escape  being  nailed?" 

"Ring-ouzel's  egg  in  my  mouth,"  explained  the  young 
man,  simply;  "  half  -hatched  it  was.  Beastly!  That 
one  broke.  But  the  other  two  are  all  right.  I've 
blown  them.  Luck,  wasn't  it?" 

"Toadums,  you're  a  beast!"  exclaimed  his  elder 
brother  ;  "  but  I  really  don't  think  you  can  help  it." 


THE  SECOND  RED  CAP  TALE,  WHICH  TOADY 
LION   TOLD    FOR   MONEY 

"BOUND  to  have  the  gelt  this  time,"  Sir  Toady 
prophesied  cheerfully,  as  he  lay  on  his  breast  and  el- 
bows over  a  green-covered  volume  with  pictures.  "This 
looks  the  shortest  one,  anyway,  and  there's  a  funny  man 
in  it.  So  father  can't  dock  me  for  being  like  him  —  • 
wish  I  had  thought  of  that  sooner!" 


THE  SECOND  TALE  381 

"Dry  up,  and  get  through  with  it,"  said  Hugh  John; 
"then  you  can  pay  me  back  the  half-sov  you  borrowed 
out  of  my  money  when  I  settled  last  week !" 

There  was  silence  deep  as  death,  only  broken  by 
the  sound  of  rustling  leaves  and  the  muttered  explana- 
tions of  Sir  Toady,  as  he  worked  his  way  through  what 
he  called  (unlawfully)  talkee-talkee.  There  was  also 
the  dry  rub  of  India-rubber  as  Hugh  John  fixed  on 
paper  the  various  phases  of  the  great  engagement  of 
Saturday  last. 

Presently  Sir  Toady  got  up  and  looked  over  his 
shoulder.  "I  say,  are  you  going  to  keep  that  for  ever 
and  ever?"  he  demanded. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  fearless  Hugh  John  —  not 
knowing  the  future  exigencies  which  would  reduce  his 
baggage  of  campaign  to  one  valise  of  the  lightest  make. 

"Well,  then,  let  me  mark  on  your  map  my  ring- 
ouzel's  nest,  the  number  of  eggs,  and  the  date !" 

The  words  which  Hugh  John  used  with  regard  to 
that  poor  plundered  ring-ouzel  and  its  nest  have  really 
no  bearing  upon  the  story.  So  they  are  better 
omitted. 

Sir  Toady  said  he  did  not  care.  He  could  do  better. 
So  he  went  and  got  out  his  Saunders's  British  Birds. 
In  it  he  made  an  entry  on  the  margin  of  facts  and  dates 
—  which  was  indeed  much  more  practical.  Then,  with 


382  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

a  sigh,  he  lay  down  again,  and  committed  himself  to  a 
study  of 

A  LEGEND  OF  MONTROSE 

This  is  the  way  he  told  it  that  night  at  the  Feudal 
Tower. 

There  was  a  clan  in  the  Highlands  called  the  Chil- 
dren of  the  Mist,  and  their  proper  name  was  the 
McEaghs.  They  were  very  savage  and  dangerous  and 
they  hated  the  next  clan,  the  McAulays,  as  much  as 
if  they  had  had  to  translate  one  of  their  chief's  essays 
into  Latin  prose,  as  I  have  had  often ! 

["Toady!"  said  I,  warningly.] 

That's  local  colour!  (said  the  historian  of  the 
earlier  McAulays,  triumphantly).  And  without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  he  proceeded. 

Now  these  McEaghs,  or  Children  of  the  Mist,  were 
a  tough  lot.  And  just  because  the  King  had  promoted 
McAulay's  brother-in-law  to  be  the  warden  of  the 
Royal  Forest,  they  lay  in  wait  for  him,  and  had  his 
head  off  before  he  could  say  —  well,  anything.  Then 
these  Children  of  the  Mist  were  not  satisfied  with  that, 
but  went  off  to  the  castle  of  his  brother-in-law.  The 
laird  was  absent,  luckily  for  him,  but  the  lady  of  the 
house,  the  warden's  sister,  did  her  best  for  them,  spread- 
ing the  table  and  even  going  out  herself  to  get  them 
good  things  to  eat. 


A  LEGEND   OF   MONTROSE  383 

While  she  was  gone,  the  Children  of  the  Mist  thought 
it  was  a  good  joke  to  put  her  own  brother's  head  on 
the  table  with  a  piece  of  bread  between  his  teeth,  bidding 
them  do  their  office  now,  for  many  a  good  meal  they 
had  eaten  there ! 

When  his  sister  came  back  and  saw  her  brother's 
head,  she  fled  like  an  arrow  out  of  the  house  into  the 
woods,  crying  out  as  if  she  was  mad.  And  I  daresay 
so  she  was  —  and  no  wonder. 

Indeed  she  was  thought  to  be  dead.  For  the 
McEaghs  went  away,  thinking  they  had  done  enough, 
while  the  servants  and  her  husband  sought  her  every- 
where in  vain.  The  barons  and  people  all  about  took 
arms  against  the  Children  of  the  Mist  and  made  seven- 
teen heads  pay  for  the  one.  But  still  no  sign  of  the  lost 
lady! 

But  it  is  the  custom  in  summer  to  send  the  cows  to 
the  upland  pastures  for  the  sake  of  the  grass,  and  the 
maids  of  the  village  and  the  daughters  of  the  family 
go  up  to  milk  them  morning  and  evening. 

While  they  were  doing  this,  they  saw  that  they  were 
being  watched  at  a  distance  by  a  pale,  thin,  meagre 
figure  —  some  thought  the  ghost  of  their  lost  mis- 
tress. 

Some  started  to  seek  her,  but  she  fled  with  a  wild 
shriek.  However,  her  husband  managed  to  find  her  and 


384  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

bring  her  home.  She  was,  as  you  may  think,  quite  mad. 
No  one  knew  how  she  had  kept  herself  alive.  Some 
said  she  had  been  nourished  by  the  fairies,  or  that  the  wild 
does  had  given  her  milk.  But  pignuts  and  raspberries 
had  more  likely  to  do  with  it  —  not  to  speak  of  other 
things  /  could  find  —  wild  strawberries,  blackberries, 
cranberries,  and  so  on.  Anyway,  she  was  alive,  and 
when  her  second  little  boy  was  born,  soon  after,  she  had 
sense  enough  to  teach  him  how  to  hate  the  Children 
of  the  Mist.  Then  she  died. 

When  little  Allan  grew  bigger,  instead  of  going  after 
birds'  eggs  and  things  like  that,  he  hunted  the  Children 
of  the  Mist.  Sometimes  he  got  the  head  of  a  chief, 
sometimes  of  a  common  man,  sometimes  two  at  a 
time !  He  brought  them  home  with  him  as  proudly 
as  if  they  had  been  nice  rare  flowers  he  had  been  look- 
ing for  a  long  while. 

But  he  was  pretty  strong  as  well  as  wary,  and  being 
cracky  into  the  bargain,  people  generally  let  him  alone. 
Besides,  so  long  as  he  only  killed  McEaghs,  nobody 
minded.  On  the  contrary,  they  gave  him  good-conduct 
marks. 

The  Children  of  the  Mist  minded,  though,  you  may 
be  sure.  Neither  gun,  dirk,  nor  bow  and  arrow  were 
any  good  against  Allan  McAulay.  They  said  the 
fairies  had  taught  him,  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that 


A  LEGEND   OF   MONTROSE  385 

half  a  dozen  of  the  stoutest  Caterans  in  the  Highlands 
would  take  to  their  heels  at  a  blast  of  Allan's  horn. 

Allan  lived  in  the  house  of  his  brother,  who  was  now 
the  head  of  the  clan.  It  was  the  time  when  the  Scottish 
Cavaliers  were  going  to  try  their  first  rising  against  the 
Covenanters.  A  Scottish  army  was  in  England  help- 
ing the  Parliament  against  Charles  I,  and  every  one 
thought  the  time  was  well  chosen  —  the  best  that  could 
be,  in  fact. 

There  was  to  be  a  gathering  of  Highland  chiefs  at 
McAulay's,  and  the  laird  had  come  back  out  of  England 
with  two  English  gentlemen,  Sir  Miles  Musgrave  and 
Christopher  Hall.  The  old  servant  of  the  house, 
Donald,  was  in  great  fear  about  a  wager  that  his  mas- 
ter had  taken  on  in  England,  which  was  that  he  had 
more  candlesticks  and  better  candlesticks  in  his  castle 
at  home  than  were  to  be  found  in  any  hall  in  Cumber- 
land. 

"At  Musgrave  Hall  there  were  six,  all  of  solid  silver, 
on  the  table  at  the  time,"  said  Donald,  "and  the  Eng- 
lish gentlemen  clinked  the  laird  down  for  a  bet  of  two 
hundred  marks  as  fast  as  a  Lowland  smith  could  ham- 
mer shoon  on  a  Highland  shelty.  So  he  took  the  wager, 
rather  than  be  shamed  before  the  Englishmen  —  and 
I  think  (added  the  old  man)  that  is  what  is  keeping 
him  so  long  at  the  hill !" 

2C. 


386  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Mad  Allan,  who  had  been  brooding  on  the  settle, 
and  apparently  not  listening,  suddenly  ordered  every- 
body out.  And  though  there  was  present  Lord  Mon- 
teith  and  a  Scottish  captain  who  had  been  in  the  wars 
of  the  great  Gustavus  Adolphus,  they  went.  Because 
in  the  Highlands  it  was  not  thought  safe  to  go  against 
the  wish  of  one  who  was  mad.  ["I  should  not  have 
judged  it  safe  in  Allan's  case,  anyway,"  interjected  Sir 
Toady,  feeling  if  his  head  were  safely  fixed  on.] 

There  was  also  a  man  named  Anderson  (he  con- 
tinued), who  was  said  to  be  a  follower  of  Lord  Mon- 
teith's,  but  he  seemed  pretty  sure  of  himself  to  be 
only  a  servant.  And  indeed  his  master  talked  to  him 
constantly.  So  when  the  Chief  came  in  with  the 
English  gentlemen  off  the  hill,  they  had  all  to  go  in  to 
dinner,  and  McAulay  was  very  doleful  at  the  thought 
of  where  he  was  to  find  all  that  money  to  pay  the  bet, 
even  if  he  borrowed  it  out  of  twenty  purses. 

For  there  were  no  candlesticks  in  the  house,  except 
the  old  iron  branches  that  had  been  there  ever  since 
Laird  Kenneth's  time,  and  some  tin  sconces  made  by 
Willie  Winkie  the  tinkler  when  the  laird's  father  was 
alive. 

But  Allan  had  found  a  way  to  clear  his  brother  and 
chief,  and  do  honour  to  his  clan  at  the  same  time. 

The  two  English  gentlemen  were  ushered  into  the 


A  LEGEND   OF   MONTROSE  387 

great  hall.  The  large  oaken  table  was  spread  with 
substantial  joints  of  meat.  The  seats  were  placed  in 
order  for  the  guests. 

Behind  every  chair  stood  a  gigantic  Highlander, 
completely  dressed  and  armed  in  Highland  fashion. 
He  held  in  his  right  hand  his  drawn  sword,  with  the 
point  turned  downwards,  and  in  the  left  a  blazing  torch 
made  of  the  bog-pine. 

The  Englishmen  were  startled  by  the  red  glare  of 
the  torches,  the  strange  dress,  the  glittering  arms  of 
the  "Laird's  Candlesticks,"  while  the  smoke  eddying 
up  to  the  roof  of  the  hall  made  a  canopy  of  vapour 
over  their  heads. 

Then  Allan,  pointing  with  his  sheathed  broadsword, 
said,  "Behold,  gentlemen  Cavaliers,  the  chandeliers  of 
my  brother's  house,  the  ancient  custom  of  our  name. 
Not  one  of  them  knows  any  law  but  his  chief's  com- 
mands. Would  you  compare  to  them  the  richest  ore 
that  was  ever  dug  out  of  mine?  How  say  you,  Cava- 
liers? Is  your  wager  won  or  lost?" 

"Lost  —  lost!"  said  Musgrave,  gaily;  "my  own 
silver  candlesticks  are  all  melted  down  and  riding  upon 
horseback  by  this  time.  I  only  wish  the  fellows  I  en- 
listed were  half  as  trusty  as  these!" 


388  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

THE  TALE  OF  CAPTAIN  DALGETTY  AND  THE  CHILDREN 
OF  THE  MIST 

He  thought  a  great  deal  of  himself,  this  Scottish 
soldier  who  had  followed  Lord  Monteith  to  the  gather- 
ing of  the  clans.  He  had  been  sometime  a  student  at 
Mareschal  College,  Aberdeen.  He  had  fought  long 
in  the  wars  of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  under  the  Emperor. 
He  had  taken  service  with  the  Spaniards,  and  after- 
wards with  the  Dutch. 

But  hearing  that  there  was  something  doing  in  his 
own  country  that  year,  he  had  come  over  to  take  service 
either  with  the  Covenanters  or  against  them,  according 
as  he  could  get  the  highest  pay. 

He  did  not  care  a  button  for  whom  he  fought,  so  that 
he  got  his  wages.  But  for  half-a-dollar  a  day  Montrose 
arranged  with  him  to  drill  the  Irish  levies  sent  over  by 
the  Earl  of  Antrim.  And  so  long  as  he  was  in  the  ser- 
vice, Dalgetty  would  be  faithful  to  his  general.  So 
much  he  promised  and  meant  to  hold  to. 

Now  the  Marquis  of  Argyle  was  the  head  of  the 
Covenanters  in  Scotland.  He  was  called  Gillespie 
Grumach,  because  he  squinted,  and  he  liked  to  do 
things  quietly  and  (some  people  thought)  treacher- 
ously. At  any  rate,  he  was  Grand  Justicer  of  Scot- 
land and  could  hang  and  behead  anybody  he  liked. 


BEHIND    EVERY    CHAIR    STOOD    A    GIGANTIC    HIGHLANDER.' 


THE  TALE   OF   CAPTAIN   DALGETTY      389 

Sir  Duncan  Campbell  of  Ardenvohr,  a  relative  of 
Argyle's,  had  come  as  a  kind  of  messenger  to  the  assem- 
bled chiefs  at  the  house  of  McAulay,  and  Captain 
Dalgetty  was  sent  back  to  the  Marquis  of  Argyle  with 
Montrose's  answer,  but  chiefly  perhaps  to  keep  his  eyes 
about  him  and  spy  out  the  strength  of  the  enemy. 

But  Gillespie  Grumach  was  a  difficult  person  to 
play  the  spy  upon.  He  did  not  care  for  introductions 
or  flags  of  truce  or  anything.  As  soon  as  Captain 
Dugald  Dalgetty  had  delivered  his  message,  he  clapped 
him  into  a  deep  dungeon,  where  he  found  himself  in 
company  with  one  of  the  McEaghs  —  indeed,  with  the 
very  man  whose  three  sons  were  even  then  dangling 
on  the  gallows  of  Inverary. 

The  Chief  of  the  Children  of  the  Mist  asked  Dalgetty 
if  he  knew  Sir  Duncan  Campbell,  and  revealed  to  him 
the  secret  how  when  his  tribe  had  taken  the  castle  of 
Sir  Duncan,  and  slain  all  his  children,  one  girl  had 
escaped,  who  was  now  being  brought  up  in  the  house  of 
the  McAulays  under  the  name  of  Annot  Lyle. 

While  he  was  telling  him  this  story,  the  Marquis  of 
Argyle  had  entered  the  dungeon  by  a  secret  door,  and 
had  been  listening  also.  He  had  not,  however,  heard 
all,  but  he  promised  that  if  what  McEagh  said  about 
Annot  Lyle  were  true,  he  should  be  set  at  liberty. 

Then  he  tried  in  vain  to  seduce  Captain  Dalgetty, 


390  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

asking  him  what  were  the  numbers  of  the  Montrose's 
Cavaliers,  and  how  many  Irish  there  were  in  the  ranks. 
Dalgetty  soon  saw  that  it  was  the  Marquis  himself 
with  whom  he  had  to  do,  and  springing  suddenly  upon 
him,  he  choked  him  nearly  to  death.  Then  he  made 
him  write  a  permission  to  pass  and  give  him  the  pass- 
word. If  he  hadn't,  he  would  have  killed  him.  He 
went  up  into  the  Marquis's  room,  took  a  purse  of  gold 
and  what  arms  he  could  find,  then  went  out  by  the  way 
of  the  chapel,  attended  by  McEagh.  They  found  the 
chaplain,  who  as  soon  as  he  heard  that  Captain  Dal- 
getty had  served  with  the  saviour  of  Protestantism,  the 
Lion  of  the  North,  went  himself  to  bring  Captain  Dal- 
getty's  horse,  and  even  attended  them  to  the  castle 
gate. 

They  passed  the  guard  in  safety,  and  Dalgetty  rode 
away,  leaving  the  Marquis  tied  fast  in  McEagh's  plaid 
and  locked  up  in  his  own  dungeon. 

They  had  not  got  into  the  mountains,  however, 
when  they  heard  the  tolling  of  the  castle  bell,  and  after- 
wards the  deep  baying  of  a  bloodhound  on  their  trail. 

But  still  dragging  his  ponderous  boots  and  encum- 
bered with  his  armour,  Captain  Dalgetty  managed  to 
reach  the  top  of  the  pass.  Here  McEagh  whistled. 
He  was  answered  equally  softly,  and  when  they  came 
out  into  the  moonlight,  it  was  in  the  midst  of  a  party 


THE   TALE   OF   CAPTAIN   DALGETTY     391 

of  ten  or  twelve  stalwart  Highlanders.  Dalgetty's 
horse  Gustavus  had  already  been  left  behind  in  the 
care  of  a  boy  who  crept  out  of  a  heather  bush,  while 
his  master  had  gone  on  with  his  late  fellow-prisoner, 
Ranald  McEagh. 

The  men  and  women,  on  hearing  how  Dalgetty  had 
saved  their  chief,  pressed  about  him  clamorous  to  kiss 
even  the  hem  of  his  garment. 

"They  are  plichting  their  faith  to  you,"  said  Ranald 
McEagh.  But  Dalgetty,  though  flattered,  was  eager 
rather  to  get  the  matter  settled  as  to  how  best  to  defend 
the  position. 

He  was  astonished  to  hear  that  the  best  weapons  of 
the  Children  of  the  Mist  were  bows  and  arrows. 

"Ha !  ha !  ha ! "  cried  Dalgetty ;  "have  we  Robin  Hood 
and  Little  John  back  again  ?  Bows  and  arrows !  Why, 
the  sight  has  not  been  seen  in  civilised  warfare  for  a 
hundred  years  —  why  not  weaver's  beams,  as  in  the 
days  of  Goliath?" 

The  bay  of  the  bloodhound  was  now  approaching 
nearer,  and  McEagh  bade  Dalgetty  be  quiet.  They 
could  even  hear  the  voices  of  the  people  who  accom- 
panied the  brute  and  encouraged  it  to  follow  the  track. 

All  was  now  dead  silence.  Even  Dalgetty  said 
nothing,  for  he  understood  the  nature  of  an  ambush 
as  well  as  any  other  part  of  military  service. 


392  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

The  moon  gleamed  on  the  broken  pathway,  and  on 
the  projecting  cliffs  about  which  it  wound.  The  dark- 
ness beneath  was  all  copse  wood,  the  rounded  tops  of 
the  bushes  looking  like  a  dimly  seen  ocean.  From  the 
bosom  of  this  darkness,  and  close  to  the  precipice,  the 
hound  could  be  heard  at  intervals  baying  fearfully. 
Then  voices  of  men  sounded  immediately  below. 

At  length  a  shadowy  figure  was  seen  ascending,  and 
Dalgetty  at  once  remarked  the  long  gun  he  carried 
behind  his  back. 

"Thousand  devils!"  he  muttered;  "they  will  make 
an  end  of  us  if  they  have  brought  musketry  to  en- 
counter our  archers." 

The  narrow  path  had  been  discovered.  The  man, 
who  by  the  feathers  in  his  bonnet  was  some  one  in  high 
command,  had  reached  a  rock  about  halfway  up, 
when  an  arrow  whistled  from  the  bow  of  one  of  the 
Children  of  the  Mist,  and  his  dead  body  fell  crashing 
into  the  depths  below.  But  Dalgetty  had  leaned  too 
far  forward. 

"The  Sassenach,"  cried  a  voice  from  below;  "the 
Sassenach  sidier !  I  see  the  glitter  of  his  breastplate  !" 
Three  muskets  were  discharged  at  him.  And  while  one 
bullet  rattled  against  the  corselet  of  proof,  another 
^penetrated  the  armour  that  covered  his  left  thigh 
and  stretched  him  on  the  ground. 


BOWS    AND    ARROWS  !       HA  !    HA  !    HA  !  '    CRIED    DALGETTY  ' 


THE  TALE   OF   CAPTAIN   DALGETTY      393 

Ranald  McEagh  bore  him  back  from  the  edge  of 
the  precipice,  still  muttering:  "I  always  told  the  im- 
mortal Gustavus,  Wallenstein,  Tilly,  and  other  men  of 
the  sword  that,  to  my  poor  mind,  taslets  ought  to  be 
made  musket-proof.  And  do  not  forget,  McEagh,  if  I 
die,  to  tell  Montrose  that  I  did  my  duty  to  the  last  like 
a  true  follower  of  the  Lion  of  the  North." 

He  began  to  wander  a  little  in  his  mind  as  the  blood 
flowed  fast.  But  in  spite  of  this  his  tongue  never  kept 
still  a  moment. 

"Advance  your  stands  of  pikes!"  he  said.  "Hold 
fast  there,  dragoons  on  the  left  flank !  If  it  comes  to  a 
retreat,  leave  some  matches  burning  on  the  branches 
of  the  trees  —  it  looks  as  if  they  were  lines  with  mus- 
keteers. But  I  forgot,  ye  have  no  matchlocks  nor 
habergeons  —  only  bows  and  arrows,  which  is  a  laugh- 
able thing  —  bows  and  arrows  —  ha !  ha  !  ha !" 

And  the  man  of  the  continental  wars  fainted  even  as 
he  laughed. 

$  $  $  $  $  $  # 

Well,  Dalgetty  recovered  of  his  wound  by  the  care 
of  the  women  of  the  McEagh  clan,  and  was  able  to  be 
with  Montrose  at  Inverlochy,  when  the  rest  of  the 
Highlands  took  their  vengeance  on  the  hated  Campbell 
clan.  Here  he  had  his  horse  Gustavus  killed  beneath 
him.  Here  at  the  end  of  the  day  he  was  made  a  knight 


394  RED    CAP   ADVENTURES 

by  Montrose,  who  had  the  King's  commission  to  do 
such  honour  to  those  who  fought  well.  But  immediately 
afterwards  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  deadly 
quarrel  with  Allan  McAulay  because  he  wanted  to  slay 
his  old  enemy  McEagh. 

However,  instead  of  killing  Dalgetty,  Mad  Allan,  who 
had  got  dreaming  of  all  sorts  of  things,  wounded  Lord 
Monteith,  when  he  was  just  on  the  point  of  being  mar- 
ried to  Annot  Lyle,  who  had  been  proved  to  be  the  only 
daughter  of  Sir  Duncan  Campbell  of  Ardenvohr,  car- 
ried off  by  the  Children  of  the  Mist. 

Montrose  called  to  them  to  shut  the  gates,  swearing 
that  the  criminal  should  die  if  he  were  his  own  brother. 
But  striking  down  a  sentinel,  Allan  escaped,  running 
like  a  mountain  deer.  He  was  pursued  by  all  who  had 
heard  the  alarm,  but  he  threw  himself  into  the  river, 
and  swimming  across  was  soon  lost  in  the  woods. 

Then,  in  a  wonderfully  short  time  after  the  deed  was 
committed,  he  burst  into  a  room  in  the  castle  of  Inverary 
and  threw  the  bloody  dirk  on  the  table. 

"Is  it  the  blood  of  James  Grahame?"  demanded  the 
Marquis,  eagerly.  For  he  had  a  hope  that  it  might 
have  been  Montrose  who  had  been  slain. 

However,  Monteith,  though  severely  wounded,  was 
not  killed.  He  lived  to  marry  Annot,  now  the  heiress 
of  the  knight  of  Ardenvohr. 


THE   TALE    OF   CAPTAIN    DALGETTY      395 

As  for  Sir  Dugald  Dalgetty,  he  followed  Montrose 
to  the  last.  He  was  captured  at  Philiphaugh,  and  came 
near  being  executed  with  the  other  officers.  He  was, 
however,  offered  service  with  the  Covenanters.  This, 
to  the  great  surprise  of  every  one,  he  declined,  because 
the  time  of  his  service  with  the  King  was  not  yet  quite 
expired. 

However,  as  it  had  only  a  fortnight  to  run,  he  was 
reprieved  over  that  period,  and  immediately  afterwards 
took  the  position  of  Major  in  Kirk's  Own  Regiment  of 
Horse,  and  died  in  possession  of  his  paternal  estate 
of  Drumthwacket,  having  married  the  widow  of  the 
Aberdeen  Covenanter. 


"There ! "  cried  Sir  Toady,  holding  out  his  hand  like 
an  offertory  plate  in  church;  "nobody  can  say  I  told 
that  funnily,  and  it  wasn't  long,  either !  I  even  kept 
out  ever  so  much  of  the  fun  there  was  in  it,  so  as  to  be 
done  the  sooner.  Please,  can  I  have  my  money  now, 
so  that  I  can  pay  Hugh  John  the  ten  shillings  he  is 
always  dunning  me  for?" 

He  could.  He  did.  And  immediately  there  was  a 
vacancy  in  the  little  encampment  sheltered  by  the  rowan 
tree  which  sprang  from  the  crumbling  fragments  of 
the  Feudal  Tower. 


396  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

Toady  Lion  had  departed.  He  was  not  one  who 
waited  for  criticism  —  after  the  cash  had  been  paid 
down  on  the  nail.  He  was  of  opinion  that  the  true  test 
of  genius  in  tale-telling  are  a  man's  publishers'  accounts. 

He  was  next  heard  of  in  consultation  with  the  joiner- 
cabinet-maker  of  the  village,  treating  doubtless  for  new 
"lined"  drawers  for  his  eggs. 

"I'm  glad  we  did  not  live  in  those  times!"  said 
Sweetheart. 

"Bow  and  arrow  would  do  little  against  a  covey  — 
you  could  not  give  them  a  proper  right  and  left  at  all," 
said  Keeper  Chesnay. 

"/  must  go  and  make  sure  of  my  half-sovereign,  if  I 
want  to  see  it  at  all,"  said  Hugh  John. 

As  for  Maid  Margaret,  she  began  to  look  anxious. 
It  was  her  turn  next,  and  I  judged  that  she  would  pass 
a  troubled  night.  So  I  went  over  to  where  she  sat, 
her  daisy  chains  scattered  about  her,  and  her  fingers 
knitting  and  twisting  nervously. 

"Margaret,"  I  said,  "never  mind.  You  just  do 
your  best,  and  you  shall  have  something!" 

I  heard  a  little  sob. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  say  —  I  don't  know 
—  I  get  it  all  in  my  head,  and  then  I  forget!"  she 
mourned. 

"Do  not  mind,"  I  said;  "say  whatever  comes  into 


MAID   MARGARET'S    ANXIETY  397 

your  head,  and  don't  care  for  anybody.  They  will  be 
glad  to  hear  such  a  little  girl  tell  a  story,  instead  of  only 
having  one  told  to  her." 

This  proved  some  slight  consolation,  but  still  it  was 
with  sadness  that  she  gathered  up  her  flowers  and  took 
her  way  up  to  the  house. 

"I  know  I  shall  never  deserve  even  a  penny!"  she 
said,  "but  I  shall  try!" 

And  that  is  no  bad  frame  of  mind  in  which  to  prepare 
for  an  ordeal. 


RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

TOLD  TO 

MAID   MARGARET   IN  A   DREAM 


THE   LAST   TALE   IN   THE   BOOK    CALLED 
"RED   CAP  ADVENTURES" 

BEING 

THE  TALE  THAT  RED  CAP  TOLD  TO  MAID  MAR- 
GARET IN  A  DREAM 

ON  the  night  before  the  final  proof,  when  Margaret 
was  to  pass  her  trials,  the  prevailing  feelings  in  the 
household  were  certainly  pity  and  hope.  More  than 
any  one,  Sir  Toady  had  awakened  curiosity.  Hugh 
John  had  carried  a  certain  chivalrous  dash  into  his 
narrative  by  identifying  himself  with  his  hero,  Quentin. 
Sweetheart  won  all  our  sympathies  by  her  gallant  strug- 
gle with  the  most  difficult  story  of  all  to  retell  briefly. 

But  Maid  Margaret,  being  greatly  the  youngest,  and 
perhaps,  like  most  youngests,  just  a  little  spoiled  by 
all,  carried  with  her  something  more  tender.  A  cer- 
tain wistfulness  stirred  our  hearts,  and  I  am  quite  sure 
that  if  she  had  not  been  granted  a  prize,  no  power  of 
mine  could  have  prevented  those  present  from  "put- 
ting up  a  bit"  for  her. 

As  it  was,  she  arrived  late,  and  I  think  it  must  have 

2D  4OI 


402  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

taken  all  her  courage  to  face  the  assembly,  in  the  midst 
of  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to  sit  so  much  at 
ease  playing  with  her  daisy  chains. 

She  was  a  little  pale,  and  her  lips  were  slightly  trem- 
bling. 

But  she  put  her  hands  behind  her  and  began  in  a 
low  voice,  with  her  eyes  cast  on  the  ground. 


I  can't  tell  you  about  a  book,  because  I'm  too  little 
to  remember  properly  how  things  come  —  or  at  least 
to  say  them  all  over  again.  Except,  maybe,  Jack-in- 
the-Beanstalk  or  something  like  that. 

So  I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Once  or  twice  I 
thought  I  would  pray  to  God  to  help  me.  But  then,  as  it 
was  just  the  money  I  wanted,  I  did  not  think  it  was 
proper  to  trouble  God  about  a  little  thing  like  that.  So 
I  cried  —  yes,  I  did  —  I  cried  a  lot.  It  was  last  night 
that  I  cried  the  most.  I  wanted  so  to  have  the  money 
like  the  others  —  to  earn  it,  I  mean. 

[For  her  quick  eye  had  seen  Butcher  Donnan's 
kind  right  hand  stealing  in  the  direction  of  his  pocket.] 

Perhaps  I  did  pray  a  little,  after  all,  but  I  tried  hard 
not  to.  For  I  knew  it  was  wrong.  But  I  heard  a  man 
preaching  in  church  say  that  little  children  had  angels 
that  were  always  regarding  them.  So  I  thought  I 


THE   TALE   TOLD   IN   A   DREAM  403 

would  ask  the  angel  —  in  the  morning,  when  maybe 
he  would  be  in  a  good  humour,  because  of  the  night 
being  past  and  the  light  come  again.  Everybody  is 
brighter  then,  and  you  get  things  easier  out  of  them. 
Have  you  noticed  ?  At  any  rate,  I  stopped  crying  and 
fell  asleep. 

Well,  you  never  could  think  what  I  saw  when  I 
woke  up  —  a  pretty,  old-fashioned  house,  but  not  really 
old,  with  the  river  in  front,  just  like  this,  only  much 
nearer.  I  knew  in  a  moment  that  it  was  Abbotsford, 
where  Sir  Walter  lived.  And  so  I  thought  I  would  go 
and  see  him  there.  I  knew  somehow  that  he  was  not 
dead,  as  they  say  in  books  —  it  seemed  like  that,  you 
know,  in  my  dream  —  just  as  if  he  were  living  there 
still,  and  no  tourists  or  anything  paying  to  go  in  — 
only  the  sound  of  the  Tweed  running  over  its  pebbles 
on  a  September  afternoon,  the  sound  which  he  loved 
most  dearly  of  any  on  the  earth. 

And  I  wasn't  afraid  or  anything.  Oh,  not  a  bit ! 
For  I  knew  he  would  help  me  and  be  kind  to  a  little 
girl.  It  was  a  nice  warm  day,  —  afternoon,  from  the 
warm,  hot  smell  of  meadows,  —  and  I  must  have  been 
paddling  in  the  water,  for  I  had  my  shoes  in  my 
hand. 

I  went  up  the  steps.  They  were  not  a  bit  high, 
but  there  was  a  big  cool  hall.  I  knocked  on  the  open 


404  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

door.  It  was  all  nice  and  quiet  inside.  At  first  nobody 
seemed  to  hear  me,  but  presently  a  big  deer-hound,  like 
Hugh  John's  Ross,  came  bouncing  out  and  jumped 
up  on  me. 

So  I  said,  "Get  down,  Maida!"  Quite  naturally  I 
said  it.  You  see  I  had  known  Maida  ever  such  a  long 
time. 

And  then  HE  came  out  to  see  what  was  the  matter — 
the  kindest  man.  When  he  took  off  his  big  grey  hat 
and  stood  with  it  in  his  hand,  my  heart  gave  a  great 
jump,  for  I  saw  it  was  Sir  Walter.  You  could  tell  by 
his  brow.  He  was  smiling,  you  know;  not  as  if  he 
wanted  to  laugh,  but  just  because  his  heart  was  warm 
and  kind  and  sunny  like  the  September  afternoon.  I 
said  it  was  September,  didn't  I?  And  the  reapers 
were  in  the  fields. 

So  I  told  him  that  I  was  a  little  girl  who  could  not 
tell  over  again  the  stories  he  had  written,  though  I 
had  tried  very  hard. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "you  belong  to  that  family  which 
has  been  pestering  my  poor  Red  Cap  in  the  big  chest 
upstairs  to  tell  all  the  old  tales  over  —  and  making  him 
so  cross  he  will  hardly  tell  me  even  a  tale  —  though  I 
have  asked  him  several  times." 

"Oh,  please,"  said  I,  "if  I  could  only  see  Master 
Red  Cap,  I  think  he  might  tell  me  something  —  some- 


THE   TALE   TOLD   IN   A    DREAM          405 

0 
thing  for  a  little  girl  to  remember,  —  something  not  in 

the  printed  books,  —  do  you  think  he  would  ? " 

"Well,"  said  Sir  Walter,  "often  and  often  he  won't 
for  me.  But  perhaps,  as  you  are  a  little  girl  and  this 
is  the  first  time,  he  might.  At  any  rate,  we  can  only 
go  and  see." 

So  he  took  me  by  the  hand  and  led  me  through  the 
hall  and  past  the  armour,  and  as  we  went  all  the 
figures  in  the  iron  dresses  turned  their  heads  to  look 
after  me,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Wherever  is  that  little 
girl  going?" 

So  we  came  to  the  library.  And  I  knew  it  all  by 
heart,  with  the  gallery  round,  and  Red  Cap's  big  chest 
in  the  corner  and  all  just  as  in  the  picture. 

"Better  stop  there,"  said  Sir  Walter  (always  in  my 
dream),  putting  a  sword  with  a  cross  on  the  hilt  into 
my  hands,  "and  if  Master  Red  Cap  is  cross  or  anything 
—  make  a  circle  with  the  point  on  the  carpet  and  then 
I  can  jump  inside!" 

"But  is  he  often  naughty,  this  Red  Cap?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  said  Sir  Walter,  smiling,  "not  generally.  But 
he  is  getting  old  and  has  done  a  lot  of  work  in  his 
day.  So  he  is  sometimes  not  in  the  best  of  humours 
when  he  awakes  —  especially  on  hot  afternoons." 

So  he  went  forward  to  the  big  chest,  and  tapped 
gently  on  the  lid.  Then  I  heard  what  was  like  a  little 


4o6  RED   CAP  ADVENTURES 

cross  whine  inside  —  something  between  an  angry 
pussy  and  a  naughty  baby. 

Sir  Walter  shook  his  head  —  of  course  in  the 
dream. 

"He  does  not  want  to  be  disturbed,  I  can  hear  that," 
he  said ;  "but  I  will  tell  him  that  it  is  a  little  girl  who  has 
come  a  long  way  to  see  him,  and  that  she  will  cry  if  she 
doesn't.  That  will  make  him  come  out  if  anything 
will!" 

So  he  whispered  a  little  through  the  keyhole,  and 
—  up  jumped  the  lid  of  the  chest,  and  out  stepped 
the  funniest  little  man  all  dressed  in  —  but  there,  I 
promised  not  to  describe  him  —  only  he  had  a  red 
cap  on  his  head,  and  under  it  the  queerest  face,  no  part 
of  it  keeping  still  a  moment,  but  all  dancing  and 
pimpling  and  bubbling  —  well,  just  like  a  pot  before 
it  boils. 

The  door  of  the  library  gave  a  loud  bang  —  loud 
like  thunder.  Sir  Walter  went  away  to  shut  it  properly, 
but  I  ran  after  him  and  caught  him  by  the  hand. 

"Ha !  ha !  ha !"  cried  Brownie  Red  Cap  in  the  fun- 
niest crackling  voice  (he  was  sitting  on  the  Big  Box, 
cross-legged,  like  a  Turk),  "the  little  girl  has  seen  me 
and  she  is  frightened.  Ho!  ho!  Ha!  ha!" 

"Well,  and  what  of  that—"  said  Sir  Walter;  "so 
was  I,  for  that  matter,  the  first  time  in  Castle  Street  — 


THE   TALE   TOLD   IN   A   DREAM          407 

you  remember  when  you  wrote  the  last  two  volumes 
of  Waverley  in  one  night,  and  the  people  stood  watch- 
ing your  hand  through  the  window,  tossing  down  sheet 
after  sheet !  They  thought  it  was  the  Great  Unknown, 
as  they  called  him,  but  he  had  his  law  business  to  attend 
to  and  did  not  believe  much  in  the  story-telling  at  any 
rate!" 

The  recollection  made  Red  Cap  laugh.  So,  after  a 
while,  he  looked  at  me  again  more  kindly  and  said, 
"Well,  what  does  this  little  girl  want?  Now  that  she 
has  come,  we  must  see  what  can  be  done  for  her. 
The  Queen  of  the  Fairies  and  I  were  just  having  a 
rare  good  gossip  over  our  afternoon  tea." 

"What!"  I  said,  for  I  was  much  surprised,  "have 
you  afternoon  tea  in  Fairyland?" 

He  bent  his  brows  at  me,  and  said,  "Why,  where 
have  you  been  brought  up,  not  to  know  that?  Yes, 
certainly.  Isn't  China  called  the  Flowery  Land  ?  So, 
of  course,  there  are  more  fairies  there  than  anywhere 
else  in  the  world.  And  of  course,  too,  the  Queen  has 
to  have  the  best  —  Extra  Special  Celestial  Golden 
Tips,  flavoured  with  gooseberry  seeds,  and  served  in 
buttercups!  In  fact,  tea  is  her  favourite  flower!" 

"So  it  is  mine,"  I  said;  "but  was  it  a  set-down  tea 
like  in  the  nursery,  or  a  serve-and-stand-round  tea  like 
what  they  have  in  the  drawing-room  ?  " 


4o8  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

"Oh,  a  set-down  tea  —  the  only  proper  kind  of 
tea !"  he  said.  "That  was  what  made  it  all  the  harder 
to  come  away!" 

"Well,"  said  I,  "if  you  come  to  our  house  when 
everybody  is  out,  I  know  where  everything  is  —  every- 
thing that  is  mine,  I  mean.  Sunday  afternoon  is  a 
good  time  —  the  boys  are  always  in  the  woods,  and  the 
rest  say  they  are  reading,  but  really  they  are  asleep  — 
you  know! "  f 

"Thank  you,"  said  Red  Cap,  bowing  very  politely 
over  the  top  of  the  big  box,  "but  as  I  am  bound  always 
to  be  at  My  Master's  call  (here  he  nodded  at  Sir  Walter, 
who  was  still  smiling),  I  cannot  come  to  any  one  else's 
house.  But  all  the  same,  if  you  want  a  story  to  tell,  so 
that  you  can  get  two  pieces  of  the  nasty  heavy  golden 
dross  —  yes,  he  called  it  that  —  which  men  like  so 
much  and  can't  be  happy  without  —  why,  just  you  tell 
them  that  you've  been  here.  And  that  My  Master 
brought  me  up  specially  from  the  Court  of  the  Queen 
of  Fairyland  —  where  Old  Tom  and  she  and  I  were 
having  tea  together  —  just  to  see  you.  At  least,  Tom 
had  some  mead  for  himself  instead.  For  he's  old- 
fashioned,  you  see,  but  not  at  all  a  bad  sort  of  a  fellow, 
though  he  will  go  on  believing  in  his  old  prophecies — " 

["Thomas  the  Rhymer!"  said  all  the  children,  in  an 
awe-stricken  whisper;  "just  fancy  seeing — " 


THE  TALE   TOLD   IN  A   DREAM          409 

"Hush,"  said  I,  "let  her  finish."] 

And  so  he  told  me  just  to  stop  there  a  minute.  "I 
will  just  step  down  below  and  see  if  the  old  fellow  has 
got  any  prophecy  about  you,  my  little  girl.  For  really, 
now  that  I  have  got  over  being  disturbed,  it  is  nice  and 
kind  of  you  to  come  and  see  a  cross-grained  old  thing 
like  me ! " 

"You  are  not  cross-grained,"  I  said;  "and  you  don't 
look  half  your  age,  but  only  nice  and  kind ! " 

He  pulled  the  peak  of  his  red  cap  three  times  in 
acknowledgment,  and  I  could  see  he  was  pleased.  I 
always  know  when  men  are  pleased.  So  he  shut  down 
the  lid,  and  Sir  Walter  put  his  finger  to  his  lip  as  a 
signal  that  we  must  not  speak  till  he  came  back. 

But  instead,  we  stood  holding  each  other's  hands. 

It  seemed  a  great  while  before  there  was  a  rumbling 
in  the  chest  again,  and  little  Brownie  Red  Cap  thrust 
his  head  out  and  nodded  the  tassel  of  his  bonnet  thrice 
three  times  —  which  by  the  multiplication  table  made 
nine.  I  know,  because  I  am  at  four  times  myself  now. 
I  was  promoted  last  week. 

"I  can  only  work  for  My  Master,"  he  said;  "I  can 
tell  stories  for  nobody  else.  It  is  not  allowed.  But 
I've  been  to  True  Thomas,  who  never  told  a  story  in 
his  life.  He  doesn't  know  how.  And  I  told  him  to 
prophesy  something  that  would  certainly  come  true  — 
something  about  you. 


410  RED   CAP   ADVENTURES 

"And  the  old  fellow  —  he  doesn't  look  old,  you 
know  —  not  even  like  me,  only  he  has  old-fashioned 
ways  —  he  bade  me  tell  you  that,  by  his  halidom,  and 
as  sure  as  you  would  suck  the  honey  out  of  a  honey- 
suckle blossom  the  next  time  you  saw  one  in  the  hedge, 
your  father  would  pay  you  two  round  pieces  of  golden 
dross,  the  same  as  to  your  brothers  and  sister!  And 
all  for  telling  about  Red  Cap  and  Red  Cap's  Master  — 
for  loving  them  and  thinking  that  they  looked  nice  — 
when  really  they  were  very  grumpy  inside  at  being 
disturbed  in  the  hot  middle  of  the  afternoon.  So 
good-bye,  little  lady!" 

And  then  (concluded  Maid  Margaret),  with  that 
the  lid  shut  with  a  bang.  I  saw  no  more  of  Red  Cap. 
But  Sir  Walter  brought  me  to  the  door,  and  just  as  he 
was  stooping  to  kiss  me  —  Ellie  put  her  hand  on  my 
shoulder  and  said  that  it  was  time  to  get  up  and  dress 
or  I  should  be  late  for  lessons. 


"But  Thomas  the  Rhymer  was  a  true  prophet,  wasn't 
he,  father?"  And  this  time,  at  least,  he  was.  I  made 
him  so  on  the  spot.  Indeed,  had  I  not  done  so,  I  should 
instantly  have  been  sent  to  Coventry  —  my  society 
abjured  by  all  honest  men,  such  as  Butcher  Donnan 
and  Keeper  Chesnay,  considered  unworthy  even  by 


THE   TALE   TOLD   IN  A    DREAM          411 

licensed  depredators  like  Elphie,  looked  down  upon 
by  my  own  family,  and  in  especial,  held  in  danger- 
ously bad  odour  at  the  Court  of  Fairyland. 

With  the  two  bits  of  "golden  dross"  shining  in  her 
small  palm,  Maid  Margaret  said  triumphantly,  "Now, 
all  you  people  who  won't  believe,  tell  me  whether  there 
are  no  real  fairies  nowadays  on  the  earth !" 

"And  who  ever  doubted  it?"  I  cried,  catching  up 
the  friend  of  Red  Cap  in  my  arms  —  a  happy  fairy, 
for  had  she  not  spoken  with  the  Master  of  us  all  ? 


THE  END 


Stories  from  some  of  Scott's  Novels,  told 

BY  S.  R.  CROCKETT 

Author  of  "  The  Raiders?  etc. 


Red  Cap  Tales 


Stolen  from  the  Treasure  Chest 
of  the  Wizard  of  the  North 

With  sixteen  illustrations  in  color  by  Simon  Harmon  Vedder 

Cloth,  i2tno,  $1.30  net;  by  mail,  $1.67 

"  In  this  simple  recounting  of  adventures  there  lurks  a  really  high  art,  and 
not  a  little  humor.  Mr.  Crockett  is  aiming  to  bring  home  to  his  critical 
small  audience  the  liveliness,  the  excitement,  the  breathless  adventuresome- 
ness,  of  these  great  novels.  He  is  luring  his  hearers  on  to  read  for  them- 
selves. He  tells  them  enough  about  the  people  and  the  events  to  make 
them  hurry  to  the  books  to  fill  out  details."  —  Churchman. 

"Not  the  least  attraction  of  the  book  is  the  clear  print,  on  good  paper, 
and  the  really  superb  colored  pictures,  delicately  tinted  and  full  of  artistic 
beauty.  So  far  this  is  the  best  book  we  have  seen  in  anticipation  of  Christmas 
gifts,  and  it  is  not  exorbitant  in  price."  —  New  York  Christian  Advdcate. 

"  Mr.  Crockett  has  adapted  Scott  for  the  benefit  of  his  own  and  other 
people's  children,  making  a  little  story  of  each  of  the  main  incidents  in 
sequence,  so  that  the  outline  and  a  good  deal  more  of  each  romance  is  pre- 
sented. Characteristic  interludes  acquaint  one  with  the  story-teller's  first 
audience,  among  them  the  dear  little  maid  of  '  Sweetheart  Travellers.'  The 
naturalness  of  their  comment  and  criticism  will  delight  the  reader  as  surely 
as  will  Mr.  Crockett's  clever  rehearsal  accomplish  its  purpose  '  to  lure  chil- 
dren to  the  printed  book '  of  his  great  original  —  and  along  with  the  young- 
sters many  '  oldsters  '  (Mr.  Crockett's  word)  as  well. "  —  The  Outlook. 


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NOVELS  BY  S.  R.  CROCKETT 

AUTHOR  OF  "RED  CAP  TALES,"  ETC. 
THE   RAIDERS 

"...  The  things  that  befell  us  in  those  strange  years  when  the  hill  out- 
laws colleagued  with  the  wild  free-traders  of  the  Holland  traffic,  and  fell  upon 
us  to  the  destruction  of  the  life  of  man,  the  carrying  away  of  much  bestial, 
besides  the  putting  of  many  of  His  Majesty's  lieges  in  fear.  .  .  . 

"  It  was  with  May  Mischief  that  all  the  terrible  blast  of  storm  began 
(as  indeed  most  storms  among  men  ever  do  begin  with  a  bonny  lass,  like  that 
concerning  Helen  of  Troy,  which  lasted  ten  years  and  of  which  men  speak 
to  this  day).  The  tale  began  with  May  Mischief,  as  you  shall  hear.  I  keep 
the  old  name  still,  though  the  years  have  gone  by,  and  though  now  in  any  talks 
of  the  old  days,  and  of  all  our  ancient  ploys,  there  are  the  bairns  to  be  con- 
sidered. But  it  is  necessary  that  ere  the  memory  quite  die  out,  some  of  us 
who  saw  these  things  should  write  them  down." 

THE   MEN   OF   THE   MOSS-HAGS 

"  One  becomes  enwrapped  in  the  spirit  of  the  age  by  the  strength  of  the 
author's  delineations,  and  so  vivid  are  his  word  pictures  that  imagination 
supplies  the  details,  and  the  whole  scene  arises  in  the  reader's  mind,  and  his 
interest  never  flags."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  It  has  the  same  qualities  as  his  other  stories  —  strength,  humor,  pathos, 
a  style  of  universal  clearness,  and  is,  withal,  a  good  story."  —  Indianapolis 
Journal. 

THE  STICKIT  MINISTER  AND  SOME  COMMON  MEN 

"Mr.  Crockett  has  given  us  a  book  that  is  full  of  strength  and  charms. 
Humor  and  pathos  mingle  with  delightful  effect.  ...  It  is  hard  to  imagine 
that  any  lover  of  literature  could  be  altogether  wanting  in  appreciation  of 
their  quaint  homeliness  and  pleasant  realism.  To  come  across  a  volume  like 
this  is  indeed  refreshing.  No  wailing  pessimism  mars  our  enjoyment  with  its 
dreary  disbelief  in  humanity;  every  page  exhibits  a  robust  faith  in  the  higher 
possibilities  of  our  nature,  and  the  result  is  distinctly  successful.  Amongst 
the  gems  of  the  collection  we  may  indicate  'The  Heather  Lintie,'  a  simple 
sketch,  instinct  with  quiet,  penetrating  pathos;  whilst  as  a  specimen  of  acute 
and  kindly  humor,  '  A  Knight-Errant  of  the  Streets,'  with  its  sequel,  '  The 
Progress  of  Cleg  Kelly,'  would  be  hard  to  surpass.  .  .  .  The  author  has  con- 
structed stories  full  of  grace  and  charm.  Those  to  whom  humanity  in  its 
most  primitive  and  least  complex  aspect  is  interesting  will  find  real  pleasure 
in  studying  Mr.  Crockett's  strong  and  sympathetic  presentment  of  Scottish 
peasant  life."  —  The  Speaker. 

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